#26 Poetry

Tainted that second night, the other you. Rigid. Which is exactly what. Self-indulgent. You don’t want.

And the awkward gestures of having asked to touch, slowly, /
and then the touch, less slow, dissolving the questions in those first gestures

lizard in the corner     languid lick of /
scales     we’re on loop     unsteady /
ready to leap but not to fall

Then I rose from the pool, told God I needed to leave. / I walked across His jarrah floorboards without a towel. / We have no chemistry, I said.

Pisces—are you a pillow i can sink my oily f / orehead into? my mother didn’t spit me out of her vagina perfect / but all the jobs i apply for ask me to be superhuman.