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Literature
proprioception
she claims
that you can spot virginity in the curve
of the hips.
i tell her
you can't see chastity in the way
the ilium crests, unless you fucked hard enough
to break it.
she smiles,
shows me the bruises carved into her bones,
traces the way his fingers held her-
what if you're already broken
to begin with?
Literature
reconnoiter
i.
she was
drunk on fire
and tight-lipped missives
and let her thighs
fly off
the tip of
his tongue
she crossed her own resolve
and let it lie
in the corner
next to eyeliner
and clipped drums
the pound
of flesh
in selective spectacle
edging out
the fear
of excess
replacing it
with dear haze
and dress
ii.
his mouth gushed
with the rush
of platelets
lush from
the cut
in his makeshift aegis
a handful
of dumb phrases
plastered on
his steering wheel,
dangerous
he closed his eyes
to escape
and found aches
his hammered hull
had never
tasted
he was wasted
on sheer page
and stress
iii.
at an ornate pace
they rest
Literature
Mea Culpa
I.
I thought you were the rain, but no,
I was the rain. I meant to drown you. I
wanted you to be inescapably drenched-
your trachea clogged, your mouth an 'O'
of desperate gasping, your lips parted
and blue. If I wasn't enough to die for,
I wouldn't ever be enough.
II.
Your disappearances were noted with
darkened clouds- thick and heavy, tight
with waiting. You always returned with a
thunderclap, moving me to a downpour of
deprived longing. I was a flood and you
were a desert begging to be a sea. But
flood-waters river into oceans, and
deserts are meant to be dry.
III.
It was selfish of me to treat you
like a boat- I liked you better c
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