gently pixelated ciggie

dripping off lip

she’s so fucking—

and with romance


you in the daisies

you in the lens flare

you, the partner-in-crime


it’s the half-light wet dream

their see-through T-shirts

married kind, not mesh

tells you one day

they’ll have babies, soft smell


hide their tattoos when they go to the supermarket

except for dots by the wrist

tracing up the side thumb, like kisses


I put them there when you weren’t home

at Opa’s up in Ngatimoti

hardwood kitchen

pale morning light, on the bench

me and Tessa

curled feet, by the sink

toe turns the hot tap


sink learns to fill

drips water, ink down the cabinets

three little dots

where I kissed


so we can remember this summer

she says, face, body, dripping, ink

see-through marriage t-shirt

she, click snaps me too


5 a.m. on the counter

yeah sex is cool, but

have you ever learned to bleed a moment?

prick yourself beneath somebody’s skin

disconnect your jaw over an early light and

suck it up like bubble mix?


Eliana Gray is a poet from Ōtepoti, Aotearoa. They like queer subtext in teen comedies and not much else.  They have had words in: SPORT, Mimicry, Minarets, Baby Teeth and others. Their debut collection, Eager to Break, was published by Girls On Key Press this year. Next February, they will be the writer in residence at Villa Sarkia in Finland. They can be found online @foxfoxxfox and sometimes in real life.