by Kayla Wheeler
Watching my body open, a game
you play like kissing darts, like bad
girls or dark honey. Tell me I’m your favorite
fast car, your better-than-everything baby. I am
all for you. Take me to your wild heaven. Say
video. Backyard Fame. Sing my name
a drunk kiss, undress me a pool of perfume.
I am an idea worth living for.
Whistle. Lean in. Pull.