My mother said you must have a portable safe to lock up this diamond ring or I will disinherit
you. Sean Connery got paid 1.25 million to make “Diamonds are Forever” in 1971. I wasn’t born
yet. I pack my combustible lipstick and exploding briefcase, I know my true safe is a rib cage. I
envision my ribs pulled apart and up on the slab. Moneypenny mourns me quickly, makes a
quick call. Like any good lock box, I compartmentalize emotion while I nibble lady fingers with
Judi Dench at tea. If my ribs are a smattering of my girl Fridays, my kidneys, are the true Janus,
consumed one too many shaken not stirred. They filter the cliché of not loving you. I am a spy. I
don’t have to love. Back—I love you. Forth— I don’t love you. I am fluid. I am Bond’s nemesis
Ernst Blofeld, the diamond smuggler. I kill the henchmen, infiltrate the ring. I sit right at the
table with Bond and my mother. It is obvious they are sleeping together. His tux is true black.
She sparkles as only a mother can. I will use my diamond money to build a giant laser that will
wipe out all parents who are mean to their children. I have a front row seat.





MacBain-Stephens_Cross the brook

















JENNY MACBAIN-STEPHENS went to NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and currently lives in the DC area with her family. She is the author of three chapbooks:  Every Her Dies (ELJ Publications,) Clotheshorse (Finishing Line Press, 2014,) and Backyard Poems (Dancing Girl Press, forthcoming 2015.) Recent work can be seen / is forthcoming at Toad Suck Review, The Poetry Storehouse, Pretty Owl Poetry, Yes, Poetry, Gargoyle Magazine, Jet Fuel Review, Glittermob, The Norfolk Review, Rogue Agent, Moss Trill, Crab Fat Literary Review, So to Speak, and Hobart.  For more, visit: http://jennifermacbainstephens.wordpress.com




Share on FacebookTweet about this on Twitter