Spring 2025 - Vol. 22, Issue 2

to try and fly away the truth that i still remember
my mother coming home drunk after shutting
the bar down after last call—too drunk to get her
keys in the door. i let her in. i was nine.

maybe clever to some to mask sexual dysfunction in
syllables —


perfect peony  stamen touches pistil  trapped together


i remember the smell of alcohol on my father’s
breath—like all destruction there was a sweetness
in it.

dead space  where is the ellipsis  three petals three sepals

i keep breathing, pretending that i am not
paralyzed by an aching suspended in time—he
loves me…he loves me not…he loves me…he loves

do i want to know the answer? she can
take me back to uncover more of what ruined me, checking every detail, checking …

checking every detail, checking…  a locked door  to a secret  garden

feelings burst (i’m not sure burst is a strong enough
word) forth from a sepulchrous tarpit like
its own baby (can you believe they used
to make cartoons about that shit?)

i travel back in time unintentionally to the
summer where the better part of a month,
you and your sister stayed with aunt michele
and uncle mike because i couldn’t get out
of bed.

i am sorry  i am sorry  i am sorry
i didn’t want this

i will memorize  your skin  every detail