by Wess Mongo Jolley
You draw me upon your skin and pierce me like
the bitterness of cigarettes on your tongue.
Were I to sketch myself as a panel
in your story or hang upon
you—weight pulling
against tender flesh
would you carry me?
Or wear me?
I lift my feet from the ground
pierce soft skin
slide through dark blood
and emerge shiny-bright.
Hiding beneath this clean linen
I am drunk on the taste of
your needled flesh.
About Wess Mongo Jolley:
Wess Mongo Jolley is a Canadian novelist, editor, podcaster, and poet, most well-known for hosting the IndieFeed Performance Poetry Channel for more than ten years. His work has appeared in journals such as Off the Coast, PANK, Danse Macabre, The Chamber Magazine, and Apparition Literary Magazine. His horror trilogy, The Last Handful of Clover, is being released on Patreon, Wattpad, QSaltLake, and as an audiobook podcast. Mongo writes from his home in Montreal, Quebec. Find him at http://wessmongojolley.com.
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