Two Poems by Suzanne Frischkorn

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My Body as a Communist Country

Its betrayal totalitarian—
skin dry as parchment

            lit by the slightest brush.
The scent in our

sheets sets off chimes,
a measure until you

The minutes I swallow whole.

Castro, you've nothing in Cuba like my desire.

            My body's capitalism,
greedy. It's a slow-jam

in a darkened room
keeping time with a DJ.

            Its lyric, the blue light of aging shadows

desire's waking. Ten years from now
            we'll wonder at this

my body's exacting power
            brooking no opposition.


Originally published in Copper Nickel.



My Body as The Tropicana Nightclub, 1952

My body’s Arcos de Cristal lined
     in licentious points of light.

It’s the crème de la crème and the güempa.
     It’s a legendary simmer.

             ¡Mami estás matandome!

It’s Latin Jazz syncopation.
             The trumpets hold its melody.

             Roulette, Baccarat, Craps, 21—
my body, the flashy casino of beauty.

It’s the showgirl girdled in orchids
between sets, and it’s her sequins’ shimmer.

Its bolero—lie to me, tell me you love
             me, even if I know you don’t.


Originally published in North American Review.




Suzanne Frischkorn is the author of Lit Windowpane (2008), Girl on a Bridge (2010), and five chapbooks, most recently American Flamingo (2008). She serves as an assistant editor for Anti-.

Read poetry by Suzanne Frischkorn also appearing in Issue 18.

Tropicana sign photo courtesy Shutterstock. is the world’s first online journal of place, publishing a rich mix of literature, artwork, case studies, and more since 1997.