Taylor Bond: Three Poems

 [Image description: black and white photograph of the shadow of a hand against a bare concrete wall.]  Alper Çuğun / Creative Commons

[Image description: black and white photograph of the shadow of a hand against a bare concrete wall.]

Alper Çuğun / Creative Commons

An Underdressed God

And so I stand at the edge of your hips,
a proud astronomer staring into darkness.
A constellation beginning at the thigh unravels along your leg.
I touch it.
I touch you as if I might burn myself - gently,
subduing the space between you
and between me.
You are a thief of my flesh; you split me like plum leaves
too early in the spring. Disrobed of what protects me;
one silver necklace undone, cotton to the floor.
Before you I am bare.
Blood sinks to my knees. I am bent, hands in prayer,
palms pressed together, beautiful.
We are as close as the space between lipsticks and lips.
I see red, red galaxies. I see suns devouring gravity with felonious jaws.
A stretch, a stretch, into a disappearance. I see you
watching me the same way I watch you.
Here, together, night is as open as a letter. I seal my spit to it
and turn off the light.

 

Scene of Reveal

“I count the stars I count the bones I fall asleep” - Kitahara Shimako

Against my belly, your blood is flowing. Like the moon,
controlling the rush of mine too. I like the pressure.
I like the sensation of giving up
to someone else’s desire.
Why can’t desire die gently?
I want to tell it to die. I want to run to it with scissors
and cut until nothing but the outline remains.
My dry lips plucking at the stubble on your legs.
My fingers separating your bones.
I’ll destroy you in such a careful way
that you’ll enjoy how slowly you fall apart against me.
Once I’ve worn myself out, I shall sleep.

 

love strikes once more

I’m never in love
with the things I’m supposed to be.
Together, our similar bodies
slide into hot water
breasts bubbling along the surface, slick
like an eel, all slime and tongue.
My desire swims away from me
and bumps your knee,
but you stare at me
unknowingly, so pure.
This is how I know it is a mistake
that I will never silently give up.
I will love you in every way
that you cannot love me
without regretting a thing.
Later I cradle your heart
like a friend
crush you gently in my arms
like a friend
sleep fast with your soft presence
like a friend
and if you smile
so I will smile, too.


Taylor Bond is a writer and photographer currently based in DC. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in multiple publications including Carcinogenic, 2River Review, and The Foundling Review, among others.