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Ashley Vandoorn

It is always arrival at the castle after
treefuls of bats echo-spell a hex trestleworked into our tundra beds.
"I am nothing if not pleasing,"
said this coal-steeped beast, snowy neckskin slipping up my may I cut in
to the frozen go-stab-yourself dance,
interject the bones she poses in her hair playfully but not carefree?

The shape of my bluff my shroud—
gruff little eyeteeth, grieving-tough she fucks not as lasting cure nor
last clear lyric, not lake metric
nor lash curve. She flattens me as I hone my flattery to care
not for topknots but yes for coattails
and wax the past is ever slick like a series of slips unslipperied serious.

Several-faced we know to wear
fumbling bloodshot, otherwise known as spilling blooms a dark
redemption we dye brighter
our cares
away she is a porno and pavements are a mess. I may be impressed with
her pierced-erotics as our virgins
desert, but I sleep tight—grim ride for grand times. Pale contrast safely
delays cape-dipped with lip-drippier.
Barely-touchables command astray a distance too in charge to interchange
the sickly excited music we sip sick.

She's all a bit spinning like any dulling fastness, thus our disciplined rage
for boredom poured into a black broth
she ladles into our nightmare mouths in the months of nightly unhousing.
I wander chamber to even secreter
passage and waste wine on my tongue my bliss my what long
belief you have. Two tines valued at who
can define sublime sucked and sucked us dry is so desire. Three bites become

you breaking away to stay the feeder I like
her fading wrinkles and lack of bareness best but the rest is sexy, and makes
                      a kind
of recognition to me. Why can't she be
from the sea? Craving is merely fire over water, or mind sweating over time,
time which diced me a gamble double-crossed
by a defender for live-forever. How to want to die when Satisfy says

Supposing the lonely last-supper together
in her ice-jungle, it would be okay to meet briefly love brimming over the
canopy, which is only a frosted lawn,
and we are shrunk together we have drunk too much unto needing machines
to bleed life spent with fencemates.
We think speaking, our guilt exotic as first clockwork wakes vanes into vines I
as the lost game-piece. Please
de-bone me. Less solid I could devour her awaiting feastial sacrifice.

She'S turning me around She SliverS into my Shimmering bedclotheS She breakS
my Silver watch StopS my pretenSe of time She circleS inSide teacheS me to drive
my miStreSS She miS-StreSSed She StreSSed my trying to fight Such delight in
the way She biteS with her entire mouth the Scavenger of our union iS a temptreSS
She wantS without Searching my more labyrinthine

blood is and is not bond—I beg you—bail me out
into what you spy I spy—in slowhand—speech I wish to send you before I know if I like
it, but I wish too much. Too many
I's lead to suicide, some study said—I say she likes without loving, which is
and all this written on her
pleases and deepens a wound we've groomed to channel her cry me a
from departure point
to pressure part—I plea to see—after she left for the first few days we were
and then the babble began
to (de)mean us, asking what every wannabe wonders: what does it feel like
                      when people
fall asleep to your face?

Ashley VanDoorn

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