Transistor
I hum a little
pleasure into a body.
Is this a song? A lover once
told me, within each body a song.
He held a piece of shattered glass—
We were on his balcony.
A bat flopped
in the darkened grass
and beyond that
*
an oiled glow. I could hear the mangled voice
bleating out of the drive thru.
I was falling in love
with the thought of touching
a body like mine,
the pleasures of another’s hand coming
*
down across me—
little muscle cranking the body
into song. Whose hand
are you holding tonight? Is it flesh or glass
that turns the volume knob
at the base of the skull to the left?
*
I waited to be turned
inside out. He was chattering
down the block, my song
wafting up from inside
his clothes.
I could hear it
like a national anthem. How soon
the body becomes a phantom
a humming transistor.
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Image by Ayşenur Özgören from Pexels
Rivka Clifton is the transfemme author of Muzzle (JackLeg Press) and Wrong Feast (Baobab Press) as well as the chapbooks: Action (Split/Lip Press), MOT and Agape (from Osmanthus Press). She has work in: Pleiades, Guernica, Black Warrior Review, Colorado Review, and other magazines.
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