bedfellows magazine
  • HOME
  • ISSUE 12
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP
Picture

Picture
Picture
Picture
SUNDOWN BLUES

I get sad at sundown 
beautiful day that turns mean
is this why it's called happy hour 
to punish what light does to me 
 
before the moon takes over
I'm hungry but I can't eat 
what I have in mind is time
 but time is cruel to my need  
 
I can't unwind so I sit and wait 
smoke weed, scour the plates 
being strong by myself isn’t all 
it's cracked up to be 
 
When the sun finishes the job 
the dishes drying in the racks
the moon making love with
my blues—I'll feel good again 
 
I'll get into my burning bed 
enjoying my fine body alone 
but the hungers I maintain  
after the sun goes down ain't 
going nowhere as I get older 


  --------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
GET USED TO IT

Not used to it. I’m well aware of it.
Not used to feelings like this. What 
is it called.  When you enjoy feeling 
like that. What everybody else is so
used to doing. You know it. Should
you? Could you? Would you know it
if you want to. When you really want
impossible/possible. I’m not used to
wanting. Feeling good. With people.
Really safe. You know what I mean.
I’m not used to it. It’s been too long.
So long I’ve been used to it. My time.
is their body. For them, I give. But it’s
different. I’m getting used to liking it.
Getting used to when you only like it
when you really want it. Really really 
need it. Like really good. Bodies wait.
They wait until they can’t forget they
have a body.  My body was there for
people to like. Now I like it. Look here.
Look there. Still getting used to this.
Now. My body is shaking something. 

I analyze, I analyze, I feel somebody,
it’s me, going into it, slowly turning it
on, getting used to wanting me back.
Feels differently this time doesn’t it. 
I’m a woman and I need it really bad.
I want it real bad. I want it bad, so bad

 
  --------------------------------------------------------------------------

PEACEMAKER

When you enter me, it's ceremonial
I hold you in with perfect anticipation,
before we quicken the salted waters.
No shallow entanglements here. No
borders or militarized boats chasing
after our heathen freedom. Mmmm
 
hmm, we say. Yes, I will sing for you.
Everyone is wrong when they agreed
upon naming it the little death–



BACK TO WINTER 2022
Proudly powered by Weebly
  • HOME
  • ISSUE 12
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP