By: Sam Atwood
I lay here in post-existential bliss
wait, no
What’s the other one?
coital
Legs twined together
Trickster, they said
I didn’t catch a name
Eyes like a star at its zenith
Each kiss like a knife across my skin
caught up in the inexorable tide of being
(I was a little drunk, okay?)
They promised a night of pleasure
wait, no
What’s the other one?
life