poetry

as yet untitled

We want
each other. Want to crawl
inside the space between us
like a mine shaft, an air duct
we use to escape. You
always were a catalyst. Placed
your hands on my heart like
a difibrulator, electrified me
alive. I seek to cool.
Seek to calm, solidify
like lava into pahoehoe.

I can’t ask you to take
your hands away. We
are in the midst of unnatural
acts, recreating ourselves
cellularly so we will
eventually grow wings, find
levity, learn to fly, prove
Daedalus wrong. I hear the fire

signs are in trine which
actually lessens Earth’s gravity.
I hear you saying my name eight
avenues and a dozen streets
across the city. Your breath
smells of lavendar and the Z –
my Z – in your mouth feels
like crushed cherries, a glass
mirror held next to a crystal
a blue bowl of water, unsung.

Published by Sinclair Sexsmith

Sinclair Sexsmith (they/them) is "the best-known butch erotica writer whose kinky, groundbreaking stories have turned on countless queers" (AfterEllen), who "is in all the books, wins all the awards, speaks at all the panels and readings, knows all the stuff, and writes for all the places" (Autostraddle). ​Their short story collection, Sweet & Rough: Queer Kink Erotica, was a 2016 finalist for a Lambda Literary Award, and they are the current editor of the Best Lesbian Erotica series. They identify as a white non-binary butch dominant, a survivor, and an introvert, and they live outside Seattle as an uninvited settler on traditional, ancestral, & unceded Snoqualmie land.

One thought on “as yet untitled”

  1. Crafty Green Poet says:

    wonderful poem

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