all in their daintiest voice. they would like to paint our body. tickle it with half hearted kisses. what is the use when they are all doing it.
by rote training our mind to endeavor to displace any authentic thought. surpass the isolated in shared normal leaning. they wonder what it must feel like. to be so close to someone that they can’t bear to go on breathing.
we smile in spite of the facts say fine. a child devours a pastry. wears a sugar mask. their one wish is to sleep for years. be awakened by a kiss lovers. we resemble mostly crude body oil. or makeshift excuses.
knuckle tattoos and filament flight. we get caught up in romance. speak affirming too loudly. spill our drink and theirs. all the times resonate in their becoming nothing more.
the larger the format the easier space fills. a call along dotted lines intersectionality abounds in unrecognized form. they bleed others dry in justifications. never an easy spell to acquire.
we write aloud in our mind where wrong answers abound. along with outworn thoughts. what we probably need is to accidentally stub our toe. pull the sticky sock off our overheated and hardened soles.
Gary Lundy’s poetry has appeared most recently in The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Beautiful Losers, Vallum, The BeZine and Fragmentarily/Meta-Phor(e)/Play. heartbreak elopes into a kind of forgiving, was released this past July by is a rose press. He is a queer living in Missoula, Montana.