Lancelot of the Lake
He is the ideal knight, for his love of her
shaped the kingdom’s entire destiny. 42 years,
the life expectancy for someone with sickle cell.
That gives him seven and a half years. I only know
chosen death, so I kiss his stomach and dig my hands
harder into everything I’ve come to believe in
below the tender spot. Can I touch you here?
Touch me everywhere, he says. To some he disgraces
the ideal of stainless chivalry. To me, he is the last
messenger, driving his truck east until
he stops here and stays for ten years. We’re both
coming home, tending to this most attractive
and splendid city. The things we go through
to live north. He likes when I worship the scars
under his chest, the small bits of hairbehind
his ears. For you. To sip at your leisure. After his
lord’s undeath, Lancelot becomes a priest. I don’t need
to pray. I know already of the inevitable spring.
Katie Rank is a writer, dancer and self-defined ethical slut living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her poetry has appeared in All the Women We Have Loved, a community art project exploring queer female relationships and The Impossible Archetype, an online literary journal. She is currently working on several creative projects that explore the intersection of eating disorders, body dysmorphia, and queer sexuality. She is an eating disorder survivor, as well as a decaf coffee drinker, and graphic novel enthusiast.