Jess Turner

HOW THIS LIVES IN MY BODY

 

Sappho, I need a visit.
I am desperate to fall
in love with violets
just like you.

But I call to the carnivorous.
Then steep in the spit
of what consumes me.

I try to steady, Sappho—
sleep on my stomach
with a stone over my heart.

Still I burn endlessly,
with my howling hands
hushed.

Sappho, I house a rooted fever.
I know you understand how
this lives in my body.

I do not long
for lilies—
I want their thrashing
riverbanks.

And with a mouthful
of water, Sappho,
can you still sing?



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