7
Entre Les Lignes
we fucked in stereo
without lips
touching, but smiles
& clandestine looks.
perched upon your branches,
i placed my hand gently
over your mouth, masking-
taped the travel
of potential sound-
waves, de notre petite mort,
from raping arcadian
ears & airwaves.
amelie is swimming in static, attempting to disentangle.
