JULY IN CINCINNATI - molly gaudry


molly gaudry

In sleep, I hear your wristclock click, your icicle toes tip carpet particles, your scuffed slippers shuffle into the kitchen, hear the Frigidaire door pop and release, a tray crack, shards erupting, melting, on my mango-skin pink and bamboo-shoot green Formica floor. Next thing I know, you're carveboarding loops and swirls around my oval heart on royal-blue Egyptian cotton bedsheets of ice; you're running cold, wet lips down my neck, trailing an ice cube along my veins with the tip-of-your-iceberg tongue. I wake tasting last night's pint-sized bites of double fudge chunk and butter pecan, shared during National Geographic videos from the Public Library of Hamilton County: "Ocean Drifters," "Rain Forest," thinking, this must be what it feels like to be icing frosted on the cake.

Molly Gaudry
Whose Song?
Thomas Glave