Still, somehow, each time I boarded,/ the jetway seemed a partition in which/ I could change in and out of my skin at will
The feminine, breezing around, messy—/ we may be our edge, closer to home,
The chemicals of each breed/ brings a new threat.
i fill the house with candles, the flames sit next to each other.
Chemistry chews on our bodies long after the fungi have had their fill. We are rich catalysts, sacks of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen.
we were never lonely just a fire in need of heat
when our marriage was a boxcar without graffiti, a lowrider without hydraulics, a billboard without a DUI lawyer,
In Philly you tried / to quit smoking and I spilled / my drink all over and we kissed or // we fought or whatever.
Rough, dry hands pull at our necks, our expanding skirts. They tug at the flowerbeds below, sweet and thick, unreleased. Nourishment, a cloud-blanketed sun. We stay in bed like lettuce. We soak heat like a sponge, till we’re too heavy to float. Our loneliness is irony, swollen with greedy buds. Tasting, crunching the earth like… Continue reading “Wet” by Jen Knox
First time I see Joseph Stalin he’s at the pool. He’s wearing an old-fashioned one-piece swimsuit, still has his trademark mustache. He doesn’t stay long, dives in, plays ball with kids for a time, climbs out of the water, and leaves. Next time I see Joseph Stalin he’s in the grocery store, shopping. There’s nothing… Continue reading “Stalin Resurrected” by James Valvis