IF:
            I rub something fast then slow on my tongue and think of you.
            I stare directly into a lightbulb painful but there you are—a wheel of light
            spinning over everything.
            I dream it’s your stellar lips your forest kiss.

HOURS:
            Build a history castle with you.
            Deepen my cupidity.

MAKE:
            Me bite into a French butter pear, your thighs
            Me dress in peppercorn silk, teleport to your hands.

HOROLOGY:
            You invent a watch for me.
            You stop the clock on me.

JUBILEE:
            Your body is a choir. I am its devoted listener.

ON:
            Bad days I want to go missing. Fantasize only you discover me.

OUR:
            Game: you bury me. I resurface dirtier than ever.
            Game: I bury you. You metamorphose return always more exquisite.

RENDEZVOUS:
            I rode you in December mornings and nights.

REMEMBER:
            I see an owl—it’s how you fell through my nictitating triple lid.
            I see a ghost—it’s how I’m in need of a good haunting.

 

Suzanne Richardson earned her M.F.A. in Albuquerque, New Mexico at the University of New Mexico. She currently lives in Binghamton, New York and is a Ph.D. student in creative writing at SUNY Binghamton. She is the writer of Three Things @nocontactmag, and more about Suzanne and her writing can be found online here: www-suzannerichardsonwrites.tumblr.com and on Twitter here: @oozannesay.