Jake Byrne
My second boyfriend’s husband’s boyfriend pulls the page of cups
I feel the only way I should: ecstatically
We’ve put on the red light
Concrete floor wet with verruca and lube
A dampness on my perineum
I composed this poem while David fucked me
and apologized for not being fully present with him
In mind if not bodily
What are these bodies
These pillars of light
That decay the further
We amble from our source
Who taught me this body was small
Who told me this was wrong?
Perhaps you ought to fear us after all
The force that drives the flower
Lightning through our daisy chains
The wild oats that sow a robust stalk
How can I, God
Have been so blessed
That Thou has failed to satisfy me
That Thou has birthed me crawling
Towards a light in them
I cannot see but know I need
To experience
The sensation of air coming into my lungs
From his ribs
And his
And his?
Jake Byrne is a queer writer. His poem “Parallel Volumes” won CV2’s Young Buck Poetry Prize for 2019. His work has appeared in Bat City Review, The Puritan, and The Fiddlehead, among others. He is a settler based in Tkaronto, on land governed by the Dish with One Spoon covenant.
