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?
