From a Matress on the Floor of Stuytown 13F
To fresh cotton washing machine skin,
red dirt road streaking down your face –
I can't come back the way I want to.
I'd be a question, always
a smirk you thought you'd outgrown.
It's just birthday sex a few months early
I told you that the last time.
You smelled like cinnamon
when you pressed me too far back
a tangled mess arched against soft refrigerator steel,
slow scream as the coffee machine switched on.
You searched my body for weaknesses
by your bottom dresser drawer.
The gold paint flaked off onto my cheek & you laughed
big belly back of the throat – locked into our blues
as I mapped out my morning after
M. Dae is an artist and writer originally from Gilbert, South Carolina. Her first short film Far Enough is in post production and will be released in 2019. She writes poetry, films and plays. She currently resides in New York City with her cat (who is a Hufflepuff to her Slytherin).