Finger sheathed in honey geared up to be sucked let it spool off my finger onto your tooth please eyes closed my mind smears birds across a copper sky let your tongue sear me from my youth please. Let us guzzle ghazals we pour down each other’s’ throats double apostrophe catastrophe, try not to be uncouth, please. Striving to grow longer arms to hug more thoroughly pearly whites and ashen gaze, tell the truth please: will you swing on a porch swing silently with me? Or at a restaurant sit on the same side of the booth please? I would remain with you long after you leave me and work the fields for your mother were she alone as well. Let me be like Ruth please. I tried to imagine if we were to part and how I would react if I saw you in the grocery store. You know I would act like a sleuth. Please! A teacher wrote a note on my essay: “Lily, you have a great understanding of human suffering.” Pass the Vermouth, please.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Lily Sadighmehr is a graduate student pursuing a degree in secondary English education. She received the Don and Elaine Westhoff Jeopardy Magazine Award for her poem “The ‘Mixed Girl’ Remix,” which appeared in Jeopardy Magazine. An alumna of Western Washington University, she enjoys sailing and flights of IPAs. She aspires to cook the perfect tahdig to impress her Persian side of the family. She currently lives in Seattle with her husband.
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