poem: i saw the texts in your phone

darling, have you heard of the invisible

men? they are all around us, dancing.

they are the pricks in your cough

when you kiss me, when you tug

down my short chemise

and kiss my thighs. they are the children

we can’t have, the dreams scheduled

and forgotten, the sense of otherness

I always feel when you step

into a room: you are saying nothing

but you are talking, you are telling

me the wet blond truth; I expected this

from shit-awful society but

not from you.