Jessica Sabo


Blue eyes. Brown hair.

He is 5’-9”, weighs approximately 180 after a rainstorm.

Has a square jaw, no facial hair.

Two piercings, one tattoo of a woman named Laura

beneath a strong left forearm’s skin.

Answers to the name “Mav” and drops off my mail

every day between 3pm and 4pm.

Is never late.

Is titled friend. Is called ex-lover

or beast,

is gym rat

or brother,

is colleague in the next cubicle,

is manager who stays late

when there is a deadline and slit skirt on the floor below.

White collar, brown patent leather shoes

with matching belt,

black-rimmed glasses hiding hazel eyes,

scar on the left cheek that looks

like Rhode Island.

Is from Maine

and loves the cold





Is broken man,

walks with a hyperextended stride.

Shorn hair in the back, wayward curl in the front,

wears Converse.

Is a smoker, punk-rocker

with sweet tobacco breath, pearl teeth

and clam-shell hands.

Will use those hands to crack me open

and suckle the meat

until I am part of his smoke stain.

The nearest dumpster is eight feet away.

Gets picked up on Thursdays

and the garbage men wear blue uniforms.

They have black hair and

never look inside the bags

when emptied.

They are never sloppy;

he made it a point to tell me this.

He is the handy-man with good reviews,

the professor who just made tenure.

Dark hair, ocean blue eyes.

Is titled friend,

is titled boyfriend

(“SO YOU OWE HIM THIS!!”he says).

Is bartender, is neighbor who needs a cup of sugar

at 4am

after the street light above my house burns out.

Has a well-kept yard

and inguinal lines

which he will sharpen on my tongue,

skims them with his thumbs

while watching my mouth

after the scorching summer




Has a heart-shaped mouth

with teeth that were meant to pierce bone.

He is covered in tribal bands.

Weighs 240 without clothing.

Is married with two kids and

has milk-wash flesh where the ring used to be,

talks about a nasty divorce,

touches women outside my window,

asks me how I slept the next morning

when I bring in my garbage cans.

Is perfect record lawyer,

trusted doctor,

family friend,

is titled friend,


so you never saw it coming


                                            I fucking knew it.

Calls me ‘darling’ like he means it.

These are things I must remember.

This is how I stay alive.



Jessica Sabo is an LGBTQ+ writer born in Southern California and currently lives in Orlando with her wife and two rescue pups. Jessica’s work centers on topics of gender identity, mental health, survival, and trauma. Her work can be found in Anti-Heroin Chic, Adelaide Literary Magazine, and ChannelMarker Magazine. Her first collection of dark poetry is forthcoming.