“Nails are too long,
can’t remember to cut them
they are colored with everything I hold
like the skin of orange peel—
a citrus flesh that never bleeds”
“I look out my bedroom window and admire Sacré-Cœur. The clouds inch past, the sky pales, then blushes, and before I know it the Eiffel Tower is alight, flashing like a jolly giant steel Christmas phallus. Every hour on the hour.”
i remember the anguish of space— standing half a step too close to you under the copper light of streetlamps, with every word and gesture, feeling surprised by how my hands would strain against their own skin to touch … Read More
