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… Continue reading poem: i saw the texts in your phone
sitting, now, on the other side and looking back through the blue-green sheen of November in Love, I am unhinged and wet, the wine running deep rosé over my virgin hands, my soiled head. he would come to me out of the rain, out of the dark, shaking mythos from the curling damp parts,… Continue reading poem: last November was seeped through with color
imagine us fucking in a skyscraper and you bite into me very carefully, the juice running down your chin; my head tipped back like a madonna from the 1940s: when they only had sex in uniforms, and the sky-lights stayed sacred and dizzy and far away.