Sylvia Plath, Aged 27, In A Letter To Her Mother (dated Tues. 16 August 1960)

I waited too long for you.

I will devour you, love you into flame,...

// H.D., from Collected Poems: 1912-1944; "A Dead Priestess Speaks,"

— Franz Kafka

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the back, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways upside down on the floor, in the bed, in the couch, on the chair, being carried against the wall, outside in a train, on a plane, on a motorcycle, in the bed of truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over in the basement, against the window, having the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blowing, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile sloppy, moan introducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blogging, back shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumpy amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell devolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, i’d still ride him.

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jinhuasi金华寺, chengdu, sichuan province in china by 旅行的蒋半仙

from “dead schoolgirl’s confession” (unpublished poem)

—Yiwei Chai, The Jacaranda Years

I hate that I condemn a good thing before it even has the chance to happen, maybe that’s why it never does.

_Shady

הבל | hevel

This is how it goes: God whispers in Cain’s jealous ear, drawing his attention to the Sin crouched at his doorway. Sin has haunted eyes and a mouth that has been kissed. Let there be no doubt that Sin has been kissed, with a wet-red mouth that may taste of blood or pomegranate or the electric crackle of a stoplight. Cain looks at Sin. He runs his tongue over his teeth.

This is how it goes: Cain leaves the house at one am in bare feet and a hoodie, careful to avoid the last stair that creaks, and treks out into the Field. There are many fields in the world but there is only one Field. Cain feels the difference in the grass when he crosses the border from field to Field, the way the grey-green blades stand up at attention in his wake, the way the dirt turns ice-cold and furious beneath his heels. The earth is good with foreshadowing. The tree of Knowledge has deep roots.

This is how it goes: God says, I will take you or your brother.

God says, You get to choose.

And Cain says, “When you split me and my brother in the womb, you did not divide us evenly. He got kindness, and I got longing. He got complacence, and I got ambition. I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.”

I have never made brothers before, God explains. That is how I thought they were made. What more do you want?

“I want to steal some of his kindness,” Cain says, and shakes his pocket knife out of his sleeve.

Back at home, Abel sits up in his bed with a start, heart racing. That was close, he thinks, that was a damn close one, and does not know why.

In the Field, the ground warms as blood seeps into the dirt.