shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Michelle S. Lee

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The joy in us comes from the sex in our words

Naked lies in the way we move
our mouths like fish slipping fast
and taking in water
and silt – sifting through the detritus
the other has to offer. You swim
along the skin of my psyche
in ripples, pushing me to think
beyond the tales I have told myself
and I circle back and catch you
in the tide. Sirens once called sailors
onto rocks, and I pull you into pools
where scars have solidified
into coral, where it hurts
to breathe, but your gills open
further to crash me inside
like so much sea, and I let you
carry me adrift, out with you
to dark water where we can
no longer see land.