LatinosUSA

glistening with expensive emotions, an obscene love of gelatin, a house
full of dream-cream heat-sensitive beans, please prepare moon oysters
 
and crescent cream cheese boats, I’m particularly soft at the thought
of your hands on the stove, stirring tortellini or just spooning crested
 
firecracker rice, at times you cease to exist in the bruise, could have left
a letter, a mushroom stamped with your initials, a fork, bedroom fester
 
or mold spores arranged in shapes that might be letters, might be question
marks, you’re shy with goodbye, I get it, please tear a hole, tune baster
 
bulbs until they’re full of wishes and wings, wishbones then vanilla-oak
stuffing, you once said it was all in my head, the hugging June roster
 
of harpoons and hurting joints, is this my chronic pain, is this the ending
of magic and trust, or can we wait a little longer, scoop bowls of caster
 
beans to cast spells, just kidding it’s beady vervain, it’s my inability
to wonder, I am properly obstructed hatred, a pastry, a spool demister
 
built by spider crabs and heat-hating marzipan tuna. I guess this is
goodbye. While you’re at it, return; disown the mouth, blood, oyster.

Copyright © 2025 Sam Moe
All Rights Reserved 

Sam Moe is the first-place winner of Invisible City’s Blurred Genres contest in 2022, and the 2021 recipient of an Author Fellowship from Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Her first chapbook, “Heart Weeds,” is out from Alien Buddha Press and her second chapbook, “Grief Birds,” is forthcoming from Bullshit Lit in April 2023. You can find them on Twitter and Instagram as @SamAnneMoe.