“The subject of lesbianism is very ordinary;”
— Judy Grahn
in darkness of March’s midnight she is eyes:
moon rays rebound lake ripples to eggplant purple walls
your hands find her body face lies upturned, opened
smaller than weeks prior. She knows you prefer protruding hip bones,
feels hungered for by you, not memory of the boy, her brother
diaphragms guttural groan, cold in body bag not on pleated comforter,
you’ve described your favorite body your type as “heroin skinny”
she knows you like the ripples of her torso but before you knew her brother
also concave trajectory to pelvis bones as drug addict,
loving you is an argument with the impossible.
Copyright © 2023 by Sarah Cooper. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 4, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.