perhappened mag
issue 12: PARADE
the messy girl
discovers she is a
gay camp icon
JENN KOITER
It all makes sense now: the so many nights
that end in weeping, one false eyelash
half-unglued, mascara running, then
caught with an old used Kleenex,
the booze, the pills, the persistent rumor
she’s had two ribs removed,
her image in that Warhol polaroid
exhibited in Krakow, ghost white with a deep red lip.
She googles herself and reads the headlines:
Messy Girl Musical In The Works! and
The Messy Girl Is Done Marrying Gay Men.
Finally, she can throw that violent tantrum
at Heathrow Airport, collapse on set
from nervous exhaustion, take to her bed the whole week
every month, cramping and farting and calling for dinner
in bed, the sheets crusty with old food
and menstrual blood. Though first she must get ready
for the show. She puts on
addiction like a rhinestone bustier, suffering
like a sheer black backless bodysuit.
And her love affairs are an earring, an earring,
and high high heels. What can the fanboys do but cheer,
what can she do but strut onstage:
too much hair, too much skin, too much woman
for anyone to handle?
that end in weeping, one false eyelash
half-unglued, mascara running, then
caught with an old used Kleenex,
the booze, the pills, the persistent rumor
she’s had two ribs removed,
her image in that Warhol polaroid
exhibited in Krakow, ghost white with a deep red lip.
She googles herself and reads the headlines:
Messy Girl Musical In The Works! and
The Messy Girl Is Done Marrying Gay Men.
Finally, she can throw that violent tantrum
at Heathrow Airport, collapse on set
from nervous exhaustion, take to her bed the whole week
every month, cramping and farting and calling for dinner
in bed, the sheets crusty with old food
and menstrual blood. Though first she must get ready
for the show. She puts on
addiction like a rhinestone bustier, suffering
like a sheer black backless bodysuit.
And her love affairs are an earring, an earring,
and high high heels. What can the fanboys do but cheer,
what can she do but strut onstage:
too much hair, too much skin, too much woman
for anyone to handle?
Jenn Koiter’s poems and essays have appeared in Smartish Pace, Bateau, Barrelhouse, Ruminate, and other journals. Jenn has taught at colleges and universities, worked for a cultural nonprofit and in corporate marketing, and volunteered to help end human trafficking in India and Nepal. She lives in Washington, DC with three gerbils named Sputnik, Cosmo, and Unit.