JC Reilly’s poems appear in Southern Women’s Review, the Xavier Review, Flyover Country Review, Dirty Chai, Kentrucky Review, and other journals. She is the author of the Finishing Line Press chapbook, La Petite Mort, and a 25% author of the Poetry Atlanta anthology, On Occasion: Four Poets, One Year which came out this past April. She lives in Atlanta with her husband, three cats, and a sticky-fingered ghost who likes to hide keys and cell phones.
Beware the Maenads
They lose themselves in orgies,
and music, they frenzy—feverish,
from rivers, so transported to bliss
the flesh of bears and boars, enrobing
their god, Dionysus, the god
The day you worship Apollo
you into a thousand pieces, gnaw
It wasn’t that the tree’s
slicing through translucent
Favorite English pear
Rather, what was gained
than the drizzle beginning
drinking eagerly, the snake
In my dream, a bride visits
an elephant lives in sequins and silks.
her marriage will be happy,
of wild lemongrass. If it stares
thousand days will be as the endless
of despair. But should it fix her
will fall like a shower of silver
till they drown, drown–
Why We Have Night
I catch the sun between my teeth
he struggles, a fly stuck in a tacky trap,
like long, yellow hair rarely brushed.
red ribbons splashing around us
be bothered with his putting on airs.
and then he stills; it is like an eyelid closing.
magma a little too hot for my taste,
like beach balls on a gust of solar wind.
stick like peanut butter to the roof of my mouth,
How the Cypress Came to Be
The prey you weep over now
of lichens and fresh grasses
into your chest in drizzly
on long walks through Chios’
your arrow to fell your friend
its blood a thousand garnets,
to see those brown eyes blink
you where you kneel, in penance