Hush
Other poets spill the dark juice of
their lover's thighs in every
verse, fill pages with the dance of limbs. Yet, no name for the
taste of a seed erupting
in warm hands, the smell of blooming
light. Let’s keep secret the promise we make with our
mouths.
Platonic Love Poem I want you, and the cracked open cage of your heart. If you took my hand, I would follow you into the sea, into the sunrise that reveals our land one inch at a time: faithful, but not constant. For once, I wish the night would succumb to our laughter, for the stars to drink in our light. This is the bell that rings through the canyons of my belly and has nothing to do with butterflies. I only want to press my ear to your neck, better to feel your every word. Why didn’t English save a word for this love?
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
Amanda Roth (she/her) is a writer whose work explores motherhood, embodiment, and the climate crisis. She is the author of the full-length poetry collection, A Mother’s Hunger (2021) and has poetry featured or forthcoming in Rappahannock Review, Marathon Literary Review, MAYDAY, Moist Journal, Hearth & Coffin, Blood Moon Poetry Press, and elsewhere. Twitter @amandarothpoet and online https://msha.ke/amandarothpoetry
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