Poems by Jennifer Martelli
Kardashian: A Burning Haibun
I.
Wore my maternity kitty catsuit, my tattoo choker, my chunky Docs. Decided to walk to the meditation meeting. Felt my daughter curl in my pear-shaped womb. Found a crooked alley by ManRay to sneak my daily cigarette. Stopped for a coffee at Au Bon Pain. Stopped for a mint to hide my breath at Quik-E-Mart. Felt lucky and bought a scratch ticket. Watched the little TV set behind the counter while I paid, watched the jury come in while I scraped and lost a buck, watched Kardashian’s face when they acquitted his client. His ex-wife, Kris, would name her daughters with Ks: Kourtney, Kim, Khloe, Kylie, and Kendall Nicole (born one month after the trial), her murdered best friend buried like a bone in a kitty’s throat. So much would happen on this cusp of the millennium! So many forks and carving knives in the road. So many choices. I stayed at Quik-E-Mart until the jury filed out. Skipped my meditation. Ran back home through Central Square, over the buckled cobblestones, my daughter curled and tucked inside me. Startled a limping kitty with a fake ruby collar around her neck. I remember that too-warm fall, the air sweet as the ripe pears sweet meat sliced open.
II.
Wore my maternity kitty catsuit, my tattoo choker, my chunky Docs. Decided to walk to the meditation meeting. Felt my daughter curl in my pear-shaped womb. Found a crooked alley by ManRay to sneak my daily cigarette. Stopped for a coffee at Au Bon Pain. Stopped for a mint to clean my breath at Quik-E-Mart. Felt lucky and bought a scratch ticket. Watched the little TV set behind the counter while I paid, watched the jury come in while I scraped and lost a buck, watched Robert Kardashian’s face when they acquitted his client. Even after the Kardashians divorced, his ex-wife, Kris, would continue to name her daughters with Ks: Kourtney, Kim, Khloe, Kylie, and Kendall Nicole (born one month after the trial), the sound of her murdered best friend buried like a bone in a kitty’s throat. So much would happen on this cusp of the millennium! So many forks and carving knives in the road. So many choices. I stayed at Quik-E-Mart until the jury filed out. Skipped my meditation. Ran back home through Central Square, over the buckled cobblestones, Mia curled and tucked inside me. Startled a limping black kitty
Air sweet as the ripe pears’ sweet meat sliced open.
III.
in my pear-shaped womb
the lost kitty/daughter curled
and tucked, ripe sweet meat
Spine
Jennifer Martelli (1962-2025) authored four chapbooks and four full-length poetry collections including Psychic Party Under the Bottle Tree (2025, Lily Poetry Review Books) which was longlisted for the Massachusetts Book Award and The Queen of Queens (Bordighera Press) which won the Italian American Studies Association Book Award and was shortlisted for the Massachusetts Book Award. Her work has been published in The Academy of American Poets Poem-A-Day, Poetry, Best of the Net Anthology, Braving the Body Anthology, Verse Daily, Plume, The Tahoma Literary Review, and elsewhere. She received fellowships from The Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Monson Arts, and the Massachusetts Cultural Council. She served as the poetry co-editor of MER.
Table of Contents for A Formal Feeling