Lisa Marie Basile


I miss the things we were,          changing form     
           into decrepit suction fucking

and the red-roomed us and them,
the sunday gloom:
          grotesque corridor of the body
          and an expurgation of things simple and clean.

I’ll tell you the secret:

I liked to hide the boys behind bookshelves & unbraid my hair
so, so slow my fingers forgot themselves &      I became ritual

& stage.

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