blue variety
you are body of three men a night of finite anticipation you are body of two women before me you explain medically you are body of knowing my mother’s name and the parts of me that have not been fed you are perfect in timing
of coursing and courting and arching and breath of secretion down my throat of smoking before we meet of polite asking of relapse of namelessness of telling me the blues
and browns of my hanging closet which is not as big as yours which does not smell like stale cigarette smoke and i ask you to sleep over as though i know your last name
and you call me to ask about the story of mine and the art prints you collected today
i am body thoroughly practiced in loving in distance i am body thoroughly practiced in empty calling and the hardness of wait and lack of weight i am wanting in every word you say i am wanting in your touch of whatever variety i am body getting in the car that might be yours i am cutting my hair first thing
in the morning in crunched sandy light in light you forget
i am body shedding on the tile i am body offering you toothpaste and the light offers you blue and brown and you dye every inch of your image i am teaching you word games
and you are teaching me patience and you are body matching your palm to my face and they are a perfect fit your fingers in my mouth and i tell you you can make me say anything and you don’t and really you are not much bigger than me but you hold my body exclusively in the crook of your neck and i taste sweat trace a chest tattoo and you leave in the morning and i go back to bed
breathe into my hands one on my belly, one on my chest i am body childish you are body of six days my elder i am body of rebuttal and i have never written fourteen pages of poetry about you you are body of reason and recycled paper rhythm
you are body of mesh and reformation i am body in the crook of your neck
Frances Sharples is an English (literature) major in their last year at Geneseo. Frances is the editor-in-chief of The Lamron and Iris Magazine. They write a lot and talk even more. They also cry a lot at Marcel the Shell with Shoes On and love all of their friends.