by Serena R
Our sleep pressed close to mine.
Turn me over gently. Gemini
sun filters in. Two, the marsh,
a shadeless shotgun wedding. Let
Queensland wear God’s light like a ring.
I do and I don’t. New Order
distorts low from your phone, face down,
and you have the shakes.
What kind of man drives a hybrid
off a seabridge?
You have me, then
tell me you really can’t.
****
Serena R is a writer based in Sydney whose work examines beauty, control, and the strange emotional economies of modern life. Her writing has appeared in Expat Press. She tweets at @shoesforbr4ins.