Ball(o/e)t
Robin Bailey #36.3
Art by caarrp
Snuggling up to your bedside
manner, longing for that triassic
cuddle; making myself known
in all my endless acts of devotion:
each vote of confidence spells
out my name in a stunning
display of electoral power
(fireworks, or a star
rising in the east-
west coast).
What if I laid my head
on your shoulder? Is it
so much to want common ground
— by which, I mean, you on the
ground, or me — pinned between
knees, chests heaving, red cheeks
& roses.
I’m painfully aware of who
I am (or what I try to be),
my positionality in these
trying times. Still, I want
& want you, want him,
want to rip & tear both your
worlds asunder
if just to get my point
across: I am loveable,
so you should love me.