an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

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Tarot #07
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Tarot #05
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Tarot #02
Tarot #01

Casual Sex on the Night of a Mass Murder

fire unable to quench itself
burns beneath my skin
it’s anger
it’s the headline news
it’s the late-night nudes

it’s the dancing of your fingertips
against my clit
the trigger press
my crumpled dress

it’s the face of the shooter
the corpses he left dead
and your hands pulling me close
then letting me go

the way my neck tingles beneath your lips
the way you move between my hips
wet red leaks from their mouths
their insides spill out

I see them stumbling along
hear the screaming and gunfire as if it’s a song
but you are here
saying nothing

beneath my eyelids
bloodied bodies
blood shed from bullet holes in the back of the head
breath sucked from broken lungs

but there you are


you roll away
head finds pillow
theirs found ground
where they had just rested to pray           
and I think about the sound

I think about how it is silent now