Name cut From Margins

Put your tongue

back in my mouth an open wound

like the gash you call home

with feet worn

only because running told you

you’re begging to grey

and look a lot like your father

My pillowcase

carries the smell of your fingers

right after they’ve fishhooked

my mouth in whatever direction

makes me look less unliving

 and after you take them out

there is earth all around the bedroom

You’ll say my name

with the rings around your pupils

a halo

we find ourselves frozen beneath

when I ask if you think love

and sex

could ever look like the same thing

You don’t answer

You never write about me

I don’t ask why, I just swallow

my fingers nails softly

while sleeping with the lights on

body laid out on the bathroom floor

trying to find some god

within the florescence

Channa Goldman is a junior creative writing major at Purchase College. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pinstriped Zine, Gutter Magazine, LandLocked Magazine, Rookie Mag, Liquid Imagination, Variant Literature Journal, Running Wild Press, Anthology of Short Stories, Volume 4, and elsewhere. She is currently a poetry editor for Italics Mine.