My insomnia has asked me to share this gorgeous untitled poem by DREW KALBACH. It's from SENTENTIA's first issue and has become one of my favorites ever ever.
Your fingernails grow for years and curl
into tight yellow spirals.
You hold them close to my face and they smell like flowers.
We take off our jackets
and underneath are more jackets and more jackets.
You walk me to the meadow covered in water
and point at the ground:
there, there is the top, and below
are thousands of yellow sticks of butter.
Nobody swims here.
The alligators grow fat and beautiful.
I feed them bits of my feet, strands of your hair,
broken yellow teeth,