the almosts
I.
i was jealous of the houses that could afford chimneys
so i became smoke she created between her teeth
she fingered my broken watch during Photography
i offered it to her and she never spoke to me again
i loved her like i loved a painting, without her knowledge
five years later i looked away from her amateur porn
II.
it’s said the drama off stage is always more entertaining
than the children on the stage, we were sure to make it so
the short velvet dress was the only thing that fit me
in the closet where his fingers outlined my bra strap
he was a tiger playing a vulture and i was Shame
he could only get off when i was stolen from a man
III.
my distraction from death hid in his shell instead of scaling
buildings with the responsibility of my soul between his teeth
constant chatter about self-produced slime and fetishes
for our limbs and sex organs were already tied up in mutual disgust
i called him before the ambulance arrived, hoping to get it on
and over with before i left eternally, just to feel one last time
IV.
she was black-blue like the worst day of a bruise
before it turns mustard yellow, which she also was
a notebook i was too scared to fill for when i kissed her
i saw the first tear in the page from pushing the lead too hard
i was a broken bone who was too fearful to love a doctor
our art would have been hung in the waiting room of my life
V.
we were both psychic and ended it before we started
cursing each other over thunderous waves, crashing, crushing
flooding the attic created enduring mold samples to ship
between continents, i painted her penmanship on the windows
i carve timezones into my skin and she becomes my lighthouse
in present tense, across the sea, my always potential love
Trans-Exclusionary Rotting “Feminists”
self-awareness:
unlearn, rebirth:
cry piercing in
infant naivety.
what’s left after
clearing away
expired milk ex
date opinions?
they prowl blank
slates, you could think
nothing to eat
but feast on crumbs,
undercover
these monstrous
bigoted brutes
twist the arm back.
private showing
Male Treatment of
Opposite Sex,
genders killed off
one by one till
just two remain.
pay-for-view fight
binary v.
binary punch,
screaming viewers
block our view of
the ring, scheming,
fostering false
revolution.
Kyra Wolff is a writer, artist, and YouTube personality hailing from South Dakota. While she got her start writing and reviewing young adult novels, she now spends her time writing poetry. Her poetry has appeared in The Rising Phoenix Review. Find her in the void: twitter.com/kyra_kat.