Salem Dockery
Who’s That Bible Woman Who Slept with a Man and Tore Her Breasts Off About It?
Because honestly same. Coach me on reciprocity when
my mouth’s full: I will nod and smile
and swallow. What deep sea prey
can light up its underbelly to pass
when looked at from above as well as
below? I keep prancing in my
front door dizzy with the night’s
twinkling half-turns through a lure-lit
gauntlet of predators. Like it when
I twirl like this? What was the name
of that man that slept for twenty
years? Sometimes I wake up from a
nap and my lips are swollen ripe
as a plum. Other times I wake up to
my gums bleeding on my toothbrush
so I count the spots in my vision: how
many years of fortune do I
have ahead of me? Crown me for
miscalculating catechism in my youth.
It came to pass that all that tempts me
more than the flesh is all its
issues/ emissions/ lustfulness.
Who first called it Déjà vu
and did they experience it before
they already knew what it felt like?
Birds here, they live and die
hollering their own names.
See me in the window wanting more.
This poem arose in response to confusion around the attraction I felt towards people of certain genders, but more so the dysphoria conjured up in me. I grappled with it in my habit of mis-remembering and forgetting facts and translations, creating a history fluid like my gender and sexuality, and equally as haunted by my own self-doubt.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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