for every girl
and the ghost of you is stifling. it is pure
and it is honest, so how on earth could it be
wrong? the year is now. sounds from
Coppélia spread itself on the walls like
ivy, my body sheathed in bees, i reach
for the lily caught in my throat and beg
the disabling hunger, growling in the pit
of my paunch, to end. my detail is left
untouched, and so, i am dying. this is
the kind of darkness that makes existence
questionable. how could i go dead in an
instant and rise reluctantly with the
sun? at times i am too much
effort than you’ll ever be willing to
give. and further times i trust that you
will take your time with me. until then,
my sex, an unmarked holy grail, lies
dormant somewhere between
‘i love you’ and ‘no.’ this day’s air
sits plump in my nostrils.
sweating. the smell of an
omelette, overcooked,
ejaculation from four
hours ago collected neatly
in my fingernails,
insomnia lulling, i am in a moon bassinet.
how long must I cradle this lie?
the sun creeps in, painting the floors a
glaring shade of ‘new life’ and stops
just short of me in my dazed and copper
nakedness. i know i must go, but it is
impossible to leave this room. and, to
forget you; my body, hacked and charred,
eternally trapped inside of your rose
colored sun. i am the wetness of an
oyster, alive and lapping, longing, for
what feels like the end of an era—
outfitted in my usual uniform: a lack of
emotional seasons. there are so many, and
yet, not a soul is enough. i want to
pierce myself through your black hole and
find peace on the other side. girls tell me
that happiness is a costume only
a few of us wear well. i love
you because you are a child of war born
from disproportionate lovers, and, you
also care. one day, i will taste the
juice of a divine summer in your healthy
peach. and cry when i come. i will wake up
some mornings next to you with a mouth
full of ‘sorry.’ i extend my
sincerest apologies for all the mindless
things i know i will do.
~~~
Afieya Kipp (she/her) is a queer poet and editor born in Brooklyn, NY. She is the author of the forthcoming titles, Investments in Weak Vessels (Whiskey Tit Books) and Hopefully You Find Something Meaningful In This (Vessel Press), as well as (black)Moans(wane)s (Vessel Press), which is available via Payhip and Amazon, and “conversations in the ego graveyard,” also on Amazon. Currently, she’s the founder and EIC of Vessel Press, and lives in northern New Jersey where she carries poems in her wallet. Follow her on Twitter: @AfieyaK and @vessel_press.
horny poetry review 