the wishbone will never replace the backbone

in the
split seconds
before come and get it
becomes oh god don’t stop,

I picture how many
strands
of your hair
I can fit in one fist and,
of those,
how many will break loose
with your first thrust
and find themselves
stray, stuck to our bodies
like wet stars.

He told her I fuck like a man.

I say
someone had to.

— in speaking of the space between actions by jessica dawson

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