I think I love the way the sheets are warm and undone now | QT
You think I’m pretty?
You’re asymmetrical. A sin ethical in its thought, holographic in its action, divine in its consequence. You answer my rhetorical. I answer by knowing you. Under lamp light and concrete and perched on 24 stories of aluminum and on a bed with no posts and on chili oil sheets, I know you.
You think I’m funny?
I dream we buy a white utility van. It has a bed in the back for nights when oncoming headlights look like cracks in the windshield. I hate parking it. You hate backing up. We’re kismet. But even the sharp of the t splits at the end. That’s where the laugh track fills cracks. It bonds to flesh, stick fingertip to fingertip, threaten rip at lack of acetone.
You think I’m smart?
I read in each blank of breath a dirty word. Count them. One, fuck. Two, damn. Three, split. My vocabulary is limited, but you? You read the stars. You speak numeric. It makes communication complicated, but information isn’t transferred with words, only with tongues, sopping wet syllables coded onto hip creases, with fingers burned and burning, red left on forearm and
blistered collarbone, with thighs, with lactic acid, with popped joints, with le Canzone Napoletana, with loss of pigment, with imprints on retina, with new years celebrated an hour early, with fluid-filled lungs, with 46th birthdays, with exit rattles.
You think this is it?
QT is a writer living in Mohkinstsis with a passion for poetry used as a means of revealing the world. She has previously been published in the Kinbaku Society of Berlin magazine and was shortlisted for EVENT magazine’s Let Down Your Hair Speculative Writing Contest.