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Self-Portrait as Tiona

Eight strokes in, somehow you’re panting & spent, slumped in the corner of the bed as though you’ve done something here. Ask       You didn’t finish? Smile. I think of how men want daily trophies because they performed. I count each throb until you shrivel into yourself.…

4 tygodnie temu

@i-s-jones

What We Agreed to Call “Snow” in Yorùbá

Night falls & snow joins in ceremony. I search the clearing for danger only to be met with ache. Snow is now; there are things that can’t be translated. Don’t give up on me, says the snow. Again, I try. Snow is a landscape of loneliness.…

4 tygodnie temu

@i-s-jones