crawl forward

something of me is released during sundogs squinting cotton drowning out my mouth three flares for three generations

I only need the bugs puttied on our knuckle hairs your spit congealed on my lashes spared

the sacrum is sacral

I was once a thousand other things Now i'm not

I don't understand why

i have only ever loved men that i wanted to be.

which is to say i have only ever loved potential. lives where i am braver, gentler, more giving than i have the capacity to readily be.

i covet the journeys of the men resting at my waist, their bangs matted to their brows, their mouths full of me.

something of me is released during sundogs squinting cotton drowning out my mouth three flares for three generations

I only need the bugs puttied on our knuckle hairs your spit congealed on my lashes spared

the sacrum is sacral

I was once a thousand other things Now i'm not

I don't understand why