Cohabitation w/ angel, Moving house, and, Desire as thirst by Josie Jocelyn Suzanne
Cohabitation w/ angel
The angel’s head is
not the traditional
one: no eyes, no
wheels upon
wheels, no bull head, no
lion head, no eagle
no glory: it lies
upon me, a sofa for
a time, and drinks
years: I wanted to write
you I speak to
the air around it
buzzing, but
you wouldn’t allow it
unchanged it
says umm yeah I
guess, sorry lol. When
the last judgement
comes, I say,
for my life, you will
make an excellent witness.
Yes, it answers.
Moving house
I unscrew the bed, take
the replacement bolt
keeping our footposts solid, ice
preserving atoms/fossils
out of the mahogany, taking a hole
apart. The bedroom shrinks with
its range of interaction/of
archaeology: the rediscovered ladybird
hairclips, the tiger balm... clings
to our jeans, the dust, like thinning
hair/snow. All that remains, the
vacuum. The nozzle crunching over
carpet ice flows under-
-foot. The room is spotless, footsteps
vanished into space/ the invisible
fit-to-bursting bag of loose sweet wrappers,
skin flakes, pizza crumbs, particles. New
once more. I unscrew.
Desire as thirst
After I’ve paid your water
bill, enough remaining to splurge
on 2 beyond beef patties
and birds-eye frozen
health-mix, I put my lips
to the kitchen tap, and
sup. Each drag a
dig: each gulp
asks, ‘what if
there’s more?’, what if
you could widen
your mouth, as much as
you could?
You drink me
—whoever you are—
and we are digging a well
respectfully.
