Categories
Poetry

Lover, You are the Vampire

empty streets: / I make illegal left turns at red lights. / the moon bursts and bruises: / a plum as the aftermath of violence / hanging over the web of glowing street lamps.

empty streets:
I make illegal left turns at red lights.
the moon bursts and bruises:
a plum as the aftermath of violence
hanging over the web of glowing street lamps.

cut to: sweat, which is the body’s answer
to the moon’s question: are you satisfied?
I pant like I’ve been running from something.

she pries my mouth open with her hands.
a bloodsoaked bedsheet is just a flag.

she likes to keep her fingertips on my throat
when I swallow
she thinks the bobbing is like a train engine
I don’t know enough about its parts to say otherwise.

this is the part where we dine on little animals
and my fork is a church spire:
a white blade against a tar sky.

cut to: driving with her past verdant fields
pregnant with tobacco leaves.
I taste the smoke
that hasn’t yet taken its first breath.

“I fathered a nation,” she says.
I say, “Can you unfather it?”

I am hogtied by her embrace.
a spit and a spigot are the same
if blood is the result.

she puts her mouth to my neck;
she is taking a knife to a tapestry.
I am undone by lunchtime.

© 2020 by Martina Litty

By Martina Litty

Martina Litty is a writer and poet from Laurinburg, North Carolina. She attended the International Writing Program Summer Institute of 2019, and she currently studies creative writing at UNC Wilmington. Her work has appeared in Typehouse Magazine, Slippage Lit, and Poets Reading the News, among others.