Lit / Staff Picks

Two Poems

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Voyeurism

He paints her sex slowly. The muscles
slacken, the mouth loosens. This reminds
me of the dead soon after the body
stops listening.

Bird

Tonight I walk with the authority
of the gods. No fluid or bone.

I imagine our wings beaten
to exhaust, the gesture
of escape.

Image: Francesca Woodman

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