SL
SHARA LIN LUNON
PUBLISHED WORK
SUSIE MAG
SEM TÍTULO (LETÍCIA)
Me disse com minha voz, ou, com
as palavras de que meu coração sair.
Eu ouvi ou eu li que ele foi
pra um outro amor.
Me disse que eu sinto nada, e,
eu sente tudo.
Eu me lembrar, não, talvez eu esquece se ele foi,
ou ele ficou na mesa numa fruteira.
A fruta do meu espírito.
O sol ascenda, e ele começa bater
Mas nunca comigo.
Só vive quando ta longe de mim.
Bem longe de mim.
Um ciclo com ritmo sem titulo.
SPICY ZINE
HEAT WAVE
Me disse com minha voz, ou, com
as palavras de que meu coração sair.
Eu ouvi ou eu li que ele foi
In heat
Waves of want water from foreheads and lips.
Touch me, leave me.
Our sweat is so sweet, mixed in
Sheets and stories of last nights so
Dark and lovely.
The richness saturates and seeps in
Pore and follicle; in
Dirt and damp,
So moist.
You look damn good with that glisten,
Glittering with each bead that rolls down,
Down, down your chiseled chest.
In this heat I swear I have seen things,
Cuz no one looks this good in frost.
Everything glows with a hint of gold:
Lust and lavish.
Flesh bare, with thirsted lips
Cracking, and
Wrapping round popsicles,
Circling in smiles on dance floors,
And subways,
And bedrooms,
And back rooms.
No back rubs for me,
Your palms emit too much energy,
Or is it love?
It’s probably just the heat.
GOTHAMIST
Ahem!
If I may intrude for a moment,
Most of y’all are busy working
Or cleaning,
Or making,
Or staring,
But I must share with you!
I have discovered microcosms that
Perhaps have been here before,
Or never existed until,
Yet are here
Now that time is less of a commodity.
Sun bathing in March,
Cats on fences,
Fences fawning over Bamboo growth,
In Bedstuy.
The extent of one cake pan,
The joy of a freezer,
Grandfather’s cabbage soup ,
Fruit rinds in baths.
Neighbor’s civility or lack there of...
The soreness of binging,
Accuracy of watering plants and
The intimacy in their response.
Ruminating
And laughing,
And grasping
At the things I must have known,
Yet only learned
In the time at home.