inside you we dance,
champagne dripping like
blood down our shinbones
atop metal skyscrapers. regardless
of your stuffed streets that reek of
mid-summer citrus or homeless
men with hollow cheeks:
despite your smell of stale piss split
only by the strum of sirens I
love you–and though we chant wordless
hymns into the heart of night, worshiping
shadows, brilliant incarnations, lime-sticky sugar,
red nail polish, my tongue forced
inwards by your nonnative tongue, lustrous
midnight to permeate these white days
of retrograde life juxtaposed
against espresso’s buzz,
burning, burning–I still ache.
ET is a current student and has been writing as a hobby for several years. Outside of writing, he loves to volunteer, play with his dogs, kick around a soccer ball, and eat tasty foods.