stay for dinner. i am wearing red
tonight and i want to be touched. my
tea leaves read bells around your neck.
hisses of insect. a leg here and there. the
house keeps burning in romanov shapes and
the floorboards are thick with rose mush. oh my
gosh please stay for dinner. let me show you what
a handful i am with my garden shears. let me carry
you to bits. give me your gooseflesh. your midrib. lycanthropy.
give me the visitors in your button-down. the apocalypse. a cutting.
so much red i could touch myself.
Arielle Tipa is a writer / poet who lives near a haunted lake in New York. She is the Founding Editor of Occulum and author of Daughter-Seed (Empty Set Press, 2019).