"Writing is a very joyous process for me, and even though i want you to kick my fucking teeth in is clearly dark, clearing the space to make it allowed me to move through my life in a way that I couldn't before writing it. Satsuma peel is deeply personal as love poems tend to be, but the love here, I hope, is towards the future as my partner and I continue our transitions."
what i mean is i wanna get some work done.
it doesn’t didn’t doesn’t hurt in the way you imagined
the way i imagined it might
the girl-thing died
and if i was a woman, i’d ask for teeth
in her grace
she’s so much
she asks for it to stop,
fading to black, as it were, against the third rail,
i’m in love with boy blood
running down my legs
what i mean is i had eyes once
under the old piano.
do i have to ask again?
i want you to kick my fucking teeth in.
my love i have a confession— just between
us and the car roof— us and each morning,
the needle doesn’t hurt so bad—
see new changes, softness, the face shifting under skin,
one of these days she’ll return to herself: sluggish fear
crushed under so many pillars of salt, asphalt-kissed
there’s this pink haze settling above the trees,
just above them, in their woodchipped tree pits—
in the clouds sitting like lumpy blankets— on the
projector; we take off our masks and kiss for a second,
your appetite might change— mine did,
though i’ve always loved a good bite of dark chocolate.
pardon the romance: there is a spot on my neck
we have discovered, that she touched for
a second and made real.
we split an orange after: it tasted big, sour, unveined—