Chloe N. Clark holds an MFA in Creative Writing & environment. Her work appears in Bombay Gin, Drunken Boat, Glass, Hobart, and more. She is co-EIC of Cotton Xenomorph and her chapbook, The Science of Unvanishing Objects, is out from Finishing Line Press.
In Houston, the air clings
to our skin — threads of heat
and wet
We walk between bars,
and, even at night,
the sky is warmth
sitting on the curb,
taking a break, I tell
you the history of my
tongue, but I leave out
the things I might once
have thought to tell you,
I’ve never been
good at giving out
my own past
I like distance between
my mind and others
though I used to think
I’d tell you anything you’d ask
I used to think you might
ask me anything
At home, the shower
cleans off the night, the city’s
sweaty embrace
In bed, you run your hands
along my skin, the pressure
and release of fingertips
I use my lips on your skin,
tip of tongue, mouth,
patterns and movement
I want your shape and push,
the way our skin feels
against one another’s
threads of heat and
wet and
how cool the sheets
become when we pull
away from
one another