BY TYLER FRIEND
Come eat—circumvent black fur, tent
of femme, little shelter. Promenade and purl.
When the vial emerges, bend and greet it—
thank it for what it gives me. Imagine it
glass, classy, little phallic chandelier. Imagine it
videogame medpack, giver of hearts. Imagine it
coffee and wine and ice-cream. Imagine it
the leaves of a Japanese maple, just beginning
to turn. Imagine it whiteout, used
on all the parts of me that say man, like one
of Mary’s erasures, leave only the wo.