bj

what if heaven is a naked night
with chickpea pasta & david lynch
and do you want to kiss a little?
what if heaven is a cock that can’t
get hard, what if it’s levi jeans
and socks on the pillow, freckled
shoulders, i want to watch you cum,
i want to watch a hallmark movie,
you are so fucking hot, sorry slow down,
i’d rather be depressed, and if you take
hrt where are your titties? bryce, let me
tell you, they’ve always been there,
they’re just small. and besides i’m thinking
of maybe stopping, do you want to stop?
you need my hands on your chest,
hold them there like it means safety,
and your skin is the opposite of
a secret, and the problem is not that
i can’t love, it’s that you don’t care.
when you ask can i touch you i know
what you want to touch. what you
have yet to learn is i’ll do anything
you say, well maybe not anything but
pretty close, anything to prolong
this careful life, your smile, your smile
my god, your deodorant, the scent
it tries to hide, and
we don’t have to leave this bed,
don’t you know?
we do not have to go outside,
a world unfolds between us,
we don’t need the angels,
we’re already saved

Marianne Field is a queer poet from Marietta, GA. She loves slow films, abandoned homes, rural woodlands, and gay poetry.