Shana Bulhan Haydock


skipping across from 72          hands over purple hearing aids
i am brown the bellow of        my bereft girl-
            -sense, and                i won’t swing dance with you   

not across condom wrappers, or
this bullet kaleidoscope made                   harness
nudge nudge wink wink for sunrise

             so maybe i am one of the 10%
             more particular about
             having my head touched
             feedback screeching
                          as i tentatively scratch yours
             how would you ever know?

look, every time we eat together       it’s a worn out sock tale

like when i didn’t like that thai soup
or tonight with spinach tortellini,
             not pesto macaroni
                         you have to try things out sometimes, you know?
                         sometimes you just want to stop thinking, you know?
                         it’s fun to just be a passenger in someone’s life, you know?

no.    i   don’t. know
no, i    don’t    care
no, i don’t want     to know
no, fuck.   you
                                     i’m beginning to understand
                                                 a verse outside of lips lined    gaunt
                                     if i lie down will you fuck me?             please want    me
                                                                please hurt     me       this is the only wanting    left

           & if i hold myself tight              or loose           pay me no mind
do you think this is tender
as if i’m sad               some old rhythm, why am i playing               along

                                    you lie your head against my thigh,
                                    hug me long & chaste                            timidly, i’ll
tap your nose        

someday i believe
            the past of our fucking will slumber,
                   and someday i’ll be past                                         atonement      
won’t crave to kiss your wine-riddled mouth
won’t crave your sheets, odiferous
          and congealing
someday i won’t                   need to dream, or conceal                      at all