"Without Breaking a Few" by Lorelei Bacht
When we first spoke, the colour
dripped from our mouths, a rich orange -
it did not need a protection.
Elements. We were our own, weaving
the space around us into happening.
How I longed for my face to melt
into the yellows of your face
and make new gods.
Nothing could penetrate our deeps,
our liquids: we seemed to seep
our substance into everything, and colour it.
So, I misplaced a skeleton, forgot a scute.
We stayed naked,
disbelieving of defenses, thinking
By the time I sensed a trickle -
it was too late.
Or was it? Is it not true that a fracture
is how the light gets in? If so,
let us repair our whites with gold.
Lorelei Bacht (she/they) lives and writes in Asia. Her recent work has appeared and/or is forthcoming in Visitant, Abridged, SWWIM, Odd Magazine, PROEM, Harpy Hybrid Review, and others. She can be found on Instagram @the.cheated.wife.writes and @lorelei.bacht.writer, and on Twitter @bacht.lorelei