Sitting on the edge of a rock
Lee Phillips
Sitting on the edge of a rock is fine
as long as there is a short fall below me
I put a picnic down and trust myself enough to eat
Up in the mountains all I can think about is the internet
About the milk drunk puppy and the cow watching the sunrise
a small animal being recorded not knowing what a camera is
coming closer to the lens with its little wet nose
and the lens is indifferent yet brilliant
how it can capture the smell of a baby’s head without ever truly knowing it
Up here I think about how a house is the most beautiful
right before dinner and first thing in the morning
I wonder if there are things we are all deciphering
like where the cooing doves went
the ones that scored our childhoods
In the face of all this beauty
it seems silly to ache over something so outside of me.
Real Adult Woman
Lee Phillips
Can you put the glitter in my lids?
Like yours?
Can you make me pretty?
The question solidifies me.
How woman I am
to a little girl
How unmovable
And yet I’m just like my outfit
cut in half and
All with kitchen scissors
Dull and predictable to someone
who would know better
Lee Phillips is just a gal based in Brooklyn who creates across mediums including film, poetry, fiction, and editorial. Her written work can be found in Document Journal, Refinery29, Sunstroke Magazine, Luna Collective (and some others) and in her chapbook “Space We Could Only Cross with a Rocket” via Irrelevant Press. Check out all the stuff at lee-phillips.com.