Contractions
I’m thinking of mouths, the thick
filament of tongues pulled closer
by sharp inhalation, spinal fulcrums,
the gravity of failed vocabulary.
I’m thinking of mustaches, goldenrod,
the origins of contractions-
the way love pours me out
and crushes me like an empty can.
I’m thinking of his ass in bike shorts,
coarse palms, river weather,
his silver and slurry twang
after three Jack and gingers.
I’m thinking of acceleration,
fictitious force, the necessary turbulence
for valley fog to settle, the aubade
of our shifting topographies.
I’m thinking of the way he tides
my body, the brackish melt
in his full-moon hands,
fog rolling, push-pull-pulsing
I don’t want you
to go,
I don’t want you
to stay.
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
Lora Robinson (she/they) is a poet and essayist from the East Coast. She is a poetry reader for Cobra Milk, an alumnus of Art Farm Nebraska and the May 2023 Inner Loop Author’s Corner featured writer. Their work has appeared in Concision, The Meadow, The Shore, The West Review, Hooligan, and San Pedro River Review, among others. Her debut collection, An Essential Melancholy, is available now through akinoga press. Connect with them on Instagram @theblondeprive.
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