- Vol. 04
- Chapter 01
BoyMy eyes have wounded him by rough handling,
iris-tongued, licking his youth. I have slid him
on me every way I can imagine, finger by finger,
the whole hand. His not meeting my eyes allows
me to catch my breath, gust coals to brightness.
Even the hung portrait hungers after him, twisting
in its frame. There is a back room, a nook among boxes.
The gloves on the wall will clap as I enchant him there.