Two Micros by Stevie Edwards

You love a sad boy.

This is your task: his

giant crooked cock, the blue-

green tattoos covering his perfect

runner’s thighs: Drown.


[in which fear takes shape]

an old sharp thing is being chiseled visible
in my chest again. I send my condolences
to softness. try on bras from a smaller era.


“They seem happier when you're not around.”