Shana Bulhan Haydock
unrequited
skipping across from 72 hands over purple hearing aids
i am brown the bellow of my bereft girl-
-sense, and i won’t swing dance with you
not across condom wrappers, or
this bullet kaleidoscope made harness
no
nudge nudge wink wink for sunrise
so maybe i am one of the 10%
more particular about
having my head touched
feedback screeching
as i tentatively scratch yours
how would you ever know?
look, every time we eat together it’s a worn out sock tale
like when i didn’t like that thai soup
or tonight with spinach tortellini,
not pesto macaroni
you have to try things out sometimes, you know?
sometimes you just want to stop thinking, you know?
it’s fun to just be a passenger in someone’s life, you know?
no. i don’t. know
no, i don’t care
no, i don’t want to know
no, fuck. you
i’m beginning to understand
a verse outside of lips lined gaunt
if i lie down will you fuck me? please want me
please hurt me this is the only wanting left
& if i hold myself tight or loose pay me no mind
do you think this is tender
as if i’m sad some old rhythm, why am i playing along
you lie your head against my thigh,
hug me long & chaste timidly, i’ll
tap your nose
someday i believe
the past of our fucking will slumber,
and someday i’ll be past atonement
won’t crave to kiss your wine-riddled mouth
won’t crave your sheets, odiferous
and congealing
someday i won’t need to dream, or conceal at all