After boys become some kind of man: 3 poems
Simon Wolf
The door is broken, the home is not
as we begin to compare our splinters
before our squinting eyes.
The door is broken, the home is not
as we begin to compare our splinters
before our squinting eyes.
I feel sexy / as a sheared sheep
in the mirror the face you see yourself | I’m so fucking good at this | the eye is an aleph and every place is you
what to do with this boyfriend sized chasm?
Sun on the creases of someone I love, shadows cut / our funny surface.
you can build the fist into a exclamation point
You’re so beautiful I see that everything is beautiful. A mudslide. A wound. A dead raccoon.
Best time to buy a bra / is right before the moon finishes / milking itself
Run to him,
it urged. Drop to your knees
I am at such peace but I take a beat
to pause, that’s all, to feel so full, hearted, set.
I intimidate men
With my intensity
Please don’t be scared of me
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
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“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD