Sydney Vance


Is this the right color to wear when you seduce
your own body? Nothing / tastes like wine anymore

& wine tastes like nothing / like in bed with
the lights off, never on. / I pout & I push & I

pucker this hollow away, for now. Cherries with
no pit / no bitter, / tasteless. But in some after-dark

sequence of garage light he pulls a lock of curled hair
from behind my ear / asks if it’s natural because it’s

so perfect. Isn’t. & he continues to kiss me
anyway & suddenly everywhere is right here. Suddenly

I am insomniac / deserved / melted into some kind of
watery medium & paint-stroked onto every body.

How to remember this, / tasting the moment he leaves
like the moment he came? Turn to the bathroom mirror

after & try to grab the face you see, the one he maybe never
did. I am okay             in this hollow, in the taste &

touch of half-desire / half-fraudulence / full-skin
I do not intend to shed, not / ever.

The night was hot. / & summer is almost over.


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