Monday, February 09, 2015

New Poetry by Pattie Flint


She’s matchsticks, my baby.
I’m hoping she’ll rub up on
my five o’clock shadow tonight
burning my dirty fingertips 
with the way she fingers
her earlobe with two studs.
She laughs, tells me I am a
moderately sized fish 
in a really small pond,
I say it’s not failure
I’m afraid of, it’s contentment. 

- Pattie Flint 2015

Pattie Flint is an uprooted Seattle native toughing it out in Scotland binding books by hand. She has been published in Five [Quarterly], Hippocampus and TAB, amongst others. She is currently working on her MFA at Cedar Crest College. 

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