2.

Text

snake velvet arms around my nettled breasts, smear melted sugar glass

over warm inches from the truth gleams like obsolescent adolescence half


spinal ladder chained between twisted venice lampposts, half boulevards built

over to do lists: dust flushed creases between his rusted lung, her weathered ventricle.


this collar diamond fountain drips lazy heaven into gullies grazed in toldyouso, wrinkled,

sultry, the freshly bonded isotopes of tombstones pocked like cavities


around red lips, tuck steeples between the rungs of my back.

this moon bonded in crushed silver and emerald spackled drywall

i forget how to relate to my body:


bleed green access into absinthe glasses fogged by honeycomb, trickled

air inside my curvature when it could have been moonshine, shoestring posture:

i flex my back like aluminum and reflect crushed metal.



Eliza Lynch (she/her)