Two Poems by Eliana Vanessa

Eliana Vanessa, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

birthday suit


bobby pins

falling all over the floor—

you’d pulled them out, one by one,

with your teeth, jokingly asking,

how many more of these, Sugar?


that’s when

i shook my wild locks free,

losing the nude dress too,

to what felt like the arms of winter,

daring me to go skinny-dipping,


i agreed,

needing to get the stench

of so many cigarettes off my skin,

though you opted to watch me swim,

which was a bit unnerving,



in one of those

fold-up lawn chairs,

loaded, tripping on edibles,

and chasing them with Jim Beam,


your girlfriend,

blowing up your phone, as usual–

it was two in the morning before you

came up with a bad story, about being late,

said it was your buddy’s birthday,


of course

i took this as my cue,

stumbling out of the pool,

towards the heat of your lap,

and i think maybe


all of about

ten minutes

might’ve passed,

before we both finished,

and you offered me another light.


to be continued


i remember

the dead of that night,

how the wicked, cold rain,

made my wet heels slip,

as i drove, in a frenzy,

to meet him


the parking lot was empty,

so it seemed like out of nowhere

when his dark figure slipped

into the passenger’s seat,

me, sitting there, waiting,

with a gun


i tried

to stay calm

as i handed it to him,

mumbling something about how

i knew he’d take care of it,

but he was too angry to reply



one of his hands,


on my thigh,

while the other worked

its way over my bottom


he smirked,

and, with a squeeze,

said he’d have to spank me later,

what with all the trouble

i’d gotten him into

as of late


he continued,

unbuttoning my shirt,

claiming too much blood,

smeared all over our small town,

would have us both thrown in jail


that we’d

never make bail,

based on the sheer number

of bullets i’d emptied on his best friend,

but that, yes, it meant we could

finally be together


and if

it weren’t for such a

brutal storm moving through,

we’d have our bags packed already,

he whispered “Sit tight,

Baby Girl, hold steady,



say goodbye

until i can be sure

what our next move will be,”

then he laid

his signature kiss on me,

had me moaning with relief



the lights and sirens

did not register as quickly,

not until i had to reapply my lipstick—

that’s when i caught a glimpse of that

damn detective, pulling up in the rear view.


Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age. She recently participated 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Horror Zine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Sirens Call Ezine, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, Beneath the Rainbow, and Fearless. Her poetry appears in two recent anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019) and Americans and Others (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link:

Eliana 2