← v6n2, Fall 2007
Poetry · Volume 6, Number 2

In Which I Imagine Myself Into a Slasher Flick, Cahterine Pierce

The Jennies get it first.

The Trishes. The Ambers.

Never my silhouette through

shower steam. Never my red

mouth in close-up. I’ve got

straight A’s and no boyfriend.

I’ve got Friday nights

and sleeping neighbor children.

But worry. Because I’ve got

an unadorned name. Sharp

vision by moonlight.

My father’s rusted hatchet

and a jetliner scream.