West Ambrose
God damn you—
Speak to me in
forked tongues and semaphore,
show me what you like to
dress up in and I’ll curl my hair,
it will be such a pretty little affair;
like Lady Chatterley but queerer,
like Mrs. Dalloway but more parties,
like the war poets but less running around
all over, covered in mud,
(but keep the nightmares,
we always keep the nightmares
closer; hold me through them,
taste me, fuck me, pet my hair
and talk to me long after
they’re done,)
save me, drink the poison
from my pale lips then
die with me
in this unfathomable casket
called Longing:
I sit up all night, reading
The History Of Your Life—
and caught
between myths
I cry,
knowing
we’ll always be strangers.
***
West Ambrose is a writer and grad student. They are trans, queer, and disabled/chronically ill. They are fascinated by the works of Herman Melville and in their free time love to find weird old teapots and make granola bars that are both vegan and duck-friendly. Their twitter is @westofcanon and their website is westofcanon.com where you can find their creative works inspired by antiquity and classic lit.