My spikes under your skin. My fingers in your nerves. Your skin twitching and tightening against mine. Me cackling, grinning, growling into your ear, sighing, moaning, strutting to get your bottle of water.
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I spent much of my time on the AIDS ward asking patients “What do you want? What do you need?” and so very often the answer was “I just want to go home,” which was something I was able to do at the end of every shift, walk home through the Mission District, to my boyfriend, my photos, my books, my things, my stuff.
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This is the revolution
when lovers are being bombed and separated
I wouldn’t want any colonizer to lay their hands on us.
Can you hear yourself? On
our knoll overlooking the sea,
downy kneecaps. Perfume Genius
Cora flinched as Maria’s body melded with hers and felt her skin heat up when her friend inched even closer. It was like someone had ignited a fire inside her, making it impossible to think straight. Maria’s sweet perfume overwhelmed her senses, making her dizzy. It felt like melting. If she gave in, she’d just disappear.
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Once a therapist scoffed when you said you think you might maybe you dunno…have an eating disorder? You said it as you usually did, in that nervous-smile shy and quiet way if you talk about hard things. And he, the therapist, the PhD, said, but look at you, look at that tiny waist!
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