we lived inside ourselves, she and I. slurring

spells, hiding in the shadows of prefab office

tedium and reluctant murmurs. our universe

was small. we thrived by brushing thighs

beneath boardroom tables and slipping hands

into trousers, inside steel bodies of empty elevators.

and when the time came to slither away from her

maleficent Mr.Captor, we did so together, with torsos

touching and unhinged jaws. his collateral casualty

ballooned our bellies and sullied our sanguine smugness.

a demise launched into a beginning. a book of secrecy

and little lavender lies entitled, romance.

II.

we gorged ourselves in hiding and denied our truths

in crowds. we anointed magistrates in every stranger

and pled our innocence into an apathetic air. drifters,

grifters, deserters, of vows. sunken under the obligation

of her own choosing. as if burdened by big bouncy babies

above slight sweaty shoulders. how quickly joy

becomes heavy and fragile under a scorching sanctimonious sun.

i should’ve known. matter covered in scales only weigh

camouflage, or keep us moving along. there’s no satiety

in deception nor desire in utility. and so, just as in the beginning

we remained uneasy cannibals, ad infinitum.

SHON MAPP (she/her) is a queer Black writer with words published or forthcoming in Fourteen Poems, Kissing Dynamite, Ghost Heart, and others. She was born in Barbados, raised in the U.S. and currently resides in Austria. Her works typically explore kinship, queer intimacy, and multicultural identities. You can find her on Twitter @ShonMapp, Insta @Shon.Mapp, or on her website shonmapp.com.