Terri Muuss

Issue #
October 3, 2017

God's Spine

Sex is not
gender to desire.

It is fine, red dust,
    the windowsill

fragrant with heat.
    Our bodies begging
redemption, fingers

moving to eyes,
    shell-white, rolled
back. Bedding, a cold relief.

We fall undone—leaf unpinned,
    an opening
at the root.

Morning will come with its terrible
    teeth, our outline
traced in sweat.

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