Softer, Softest

I went to school in Olympia. I went
to bed in party closed closet doors,

shiny in slipcovers, we make indents
on these Halloween monster masks.

Your Frankenface makes me un-
comfortable, undone. Your green-green

way of unleashing my habit forming
tendencies. I wash my hands again.

Remember the cool mist-like manner
of brushing those crumbs from off

your lap? I do. I remember most
everything except when my mouth

hurts. The bite chomp blood blot, let
me out of messy. Afraid thoughts

and careful tidying up this kitchen.
So many dishes, I break the dishes

because I hate to clean. Bite sized
chocolate under the table, I find

your open jaw. Oh, here and fine
take my hands hard around your

night face. Daytime gets lost inside
my screen door, fly swatter. Smack

my not ass. My not cheek. I squeak
dreams, salt too many things. Absolutely

I am going to dip through the pillow
case bag. Filled up large style, filled

and crunchy. You wrap me. I bake
this bread for you. We like these

mornings. Much, much more of
you. I can’t eat you. I want

to eat you.

Alexis Pope is the author of the chapbook Girl Erases Girl (dancing girl press, 2013). Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Washington Square, Coconut, Guernica, and Death Hums, among others. She lives in Brooklyn, but was born & raised in the Midwest.