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It's kind of like learning to slip your bra off under your sweater so he can touch you--those little tricks you learn over the years in some dark chevy or maybe if you're lucky, a sofa. He learns to come with his jeans on begging for more and maybe you come too if he slips his hand down your panties and touches you just right. You learn how to find that safe line between teasing and pleasing because once you cross to the other side you can't ever go back and you learn later that innocence is an aphrodisiac and no boy will ever again quite love you like he did that night with one hand on your breast, the other down your pants, 'your' song on the radio and the moon writing its name on every heartbeat. |
| Among other journals, Pris Campbell's poetry has been published in MiPo Publications (print/digital/radio/OCHO), Boxcar Poetry Review , Poems Niederngasse, The Dead Mule:An Anthology of Southern Literature, Tears in the Fence (a U.K. print journal),The Cliffs : Soundings, Verse Libre, Remark Journal and a number of print poetry collections and online radio shows. Her poem in the May issue of Boxcar won the month's peer award and was nominated as one of three by the journal for a print 'Best of the Internet' anthology representing a number of online journals, as was one of her poems by The Dead Mule. Her chapbook, Abrasions,was published by Rank Stranger Press and Interchangeable Goddesses with Tammy Trendle (now sold out), by Rose of Sharon Press. She lives in the greater West Palm Beach, Florida with her husband, a very strange dog and reclusive cat. Formerly a Clinical Psychologist, she is sidelined by CFIDS. Her website is poeticinspire.com |
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