Synesthesia
First date/ Boy tells girl she is strawberries and mint and/ Sometimes
music tastes bad/ His brother doesn’t know he is oranges/ The date
continues point and tell/ What does the bartender taste like?/ The
couch?/ Elvis?/ Madonna?/ She only doubts when he says Cher is
cotton candy/ And purple is bubble gum/ She asks if citrus runs in the
family/ If black bras are licorice/ If bananas taste too yellow/ Which
Parts of her are strawberry and which mint/ Is every photo scented/
Every party a tasting menu/ She wants inside his mouth/ To know the
flavor of her bedroom/ Her favorite armchair/ The building cat/ Eyes
licking the time off clocks/ Toothbrush reeking/ Oranges
My Bite
It’s true I’m not known for my bark.
In third grade, Matthew Adams punched me
and I bawled from shock
not pain.
My brother asked
Why didn’t you hit back?
So at fifteen when Travis Craven
called me a bitch
I gave him rabies.
My teeth are sharp
hackles high, my tail has never fit
between my legs.
When Matthew’s fatty fist
connected with my face
I proved Newton’s Third Law:
for every action
there is an equal and opposite re-
action. I stood up
brushed myself off
for the second blow.
It never came.
Matthew still attends anger manage-
ment, his apology letter
framed with a daisy above my toilet.
If I lift my nose high enough,
I can see where his hand was shaking
in the sign-off. •
Olivia Thomakos is a teacher and writer from Ohio. She is a current PhD student at URI studying English literature and creative writing. She is author of Love & Other Cancers from Stewed Rhubarb Press. Her poem ‘What You Wish For’ won the 2022 Grierson Verse Prize. Her work can be found in Berfrois and Gutter Magazine among others. You can find her at oliviathomakos.com.
