Two poems by Sascha Cohen

puella aeterna

I looked just like Sleeping Beauty

laying still and narrow on the tray

when the doctors dissected my ovaries

then incinerated them.

As soon as my incisions healed,

those little frowns,

I went right to work

seducing the strangers

who crawl up holding

their money in their mouths,

and returning them, sated,

to their warm orange hearths`

I drip into other people’s families

with my own infinite desires like

slime on wallpaper

Watch me reproduce my self

a photograph recurring in your dreams

with a rose between my teeth

and my breasts pointed skyward

and my core tight as a fiddle string,

a girl straddling the crescent moon

Sascha Cohen is a writer from Los Angeles.