RealCowboy74
My lover sends
me photos of
his delicate face,
the chipped ice
eyes filled with quiet
seduction, his hands
guarding monuments
as tall and erect as
redwood trees.
I move my finger
tips across galaxies
and screens, caressing
digital images, send
back moans that echo
across internet and
all the bathroom stalls
in America. I am
“unbelievable,” he
responds before deleting
the entire thread.
I love how he
doesn’t love me.
To You
On this vast earth
I’ve gotten to know you.
The pleasure of your sighs.
How the earth trembles
beneath your sure feet.
Pockets of soil long to keep
your flesh enthroned
in mineral. Tendrils of
vine grasp for you but
you are always out
of reach.
I’m thinking of a word
that moves me as much as
the whorl of your thumb
pressed onto my tongue
as though in deepest
communion.
The holiest of holy
but nothing comes to mind.
Natalie Sierra is the Editor-In-Chief for Disquiet Arts. She is the author of three collections of poetry and short stories, with one, “Medusa” forthcoming from DSTL Arts this fall. Her work has been featured in Dryland: A Literary Journal based in South Central Los Angeles, the Los Angeles Times, and more. Follow her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter @pandorademise