Pulling BastardBy Kelly Gray
October 26, 2020
Come here, monster child. I lead weary. I take your hand and look at your knees. Your ankles with flea bites, your eyes cocked.
Come here, monster child, I see you in me, give me your palm. We lick piss into prayer. We lick like our hearts are made of milk. We lick like three is infinity, but we know that it was only ever:
not like that, not like this, put that down.
Come here, monster child, with your crown of busted. Let me straighten your collar and see the underside of your chin. The place where your laughter is catapult rock. Unhinged you say, me with my sewing kit. Needles for eyes.
Two breaths like blow. Dust settles again on the shoulders. Don’t be so mechanical with your brain like a machine. Our rusted smarts. I’ll dive backwards into the pool, dreaming of gators. I offer a leg.
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