Flame by Sarah Xerta

Sarah Xerta


It’s Halloween and I wanted to do something spirtually important
but I’m too horny to concentrate on anything other than the gold
in my mouth, all the possibilities that open up when I lay
my head back and arch my throat to the sky.
I feel moon beams vibrate against my skin
and wonder which animal is growing inside me tonight.
If I sound like I’m out of it that’s because I am
and it feels fucking great, to light a candle and eat the fire
without having to explain if it’s a metaphor or not, to be a person
without feeling bad about it. I was going to meditate
and kiss all the dead parts of you still floating around like
debris in my rib cage, but I am so tired of being the housewife
to my own body. All my furniture is covered in bone dust
so now I don’t have anywhere to relax. I buy crystals and
stuff clouds between my legs. I eat candy for dinner, consider
fucking my ex, but as soon as I think about touching someone I fall
from this cloud like a bag of dirt back into my body,
like a prisoner of linear thought I am stuck in everyone’s
idea of what it means to feel pleasure from the inside out.
I scream at such high frequencies that no one can hear me.
If you think this poem is about 21st century sex then you
are part of my problem. If you are thinking about my clit
I am telling you it doesn’t exist. You can see what I mean
with your eyes open or closed, it doesn’t matter, there is nothing
to see if you aren’t bleeding into yourself, flicking your tongue
like a flame against the dark that keeps you.

Sarah Xerta is a poet & author of Nothing To Do with Me (University of Hell Press, 2015), as well as several chapbooks, available for free download on her website sarahxerta.com. Find her on Twitter: @AlienHere2Love (it’s true).