Hazel Moelnlycke Whore ❤️❤️

About Gothenburg

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

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Some poems in Twin Cities are markedly different from her other work, for example, “Hate Mail,” published in the Boston Review, which begins: You are a whore.

First off, I’m a swineherd, right? So, I’m used to the farm life. But today? I had to head into town. Ugh. I was just tryna grab some feed at the local store on Kungsbackavägen. You know, the one with the weird sign? Yeah, that one.

Mölnlycke sets sail with ocean biofuel: A step towards greener logistics