Issue 1… Despy Boutris

Car Sex

 

You’re a lit match, you insist,

deeming my hair a golden flame,

 

our body heat blurring the air,

breath fogging the windows.

 

Last week, I held a conch shell

up to my ear to hear the distant ocean,

 

and you said the wash of waves

was the sound around us, resonating

 

within the shell I held. And, now, I lift

the sea of your hair, expose the nape

 

of your neck to cold air, fervid lips.

I want to give my body away

 

to the forces that render me

bodiless, by which I mean inhuman:

 

no pain, only pleasure, only a body

convulsing under the weight

 

of your touch. The fire spreading

within me beautiful as a burning

 

field, the spectacle of dry grass

turning animate, smoke spiraling

 

into the slate-colored sky.

Being unmade into black

 

silt. In this red Civic curbed on the side

of this quiet road, your lolling tongue

 

reignites this fire in me. I want to drown

in your sweat-slicked skin, sear

 

in the heat of your hands. I want

to give in to the catch, latch, lock

 

of my throat, the waves rolling over

me, over me, over.

 

Despy Boutris’ work has been published in AGNI, American Poetry Review, Colorado Review, Copper Nickel, Crazyhorse, The Gettysburg Review, and elsewhere. Currently, she lives in California, where she serves as Editor-in-Chief of The West Review.

Click for our interview with Despy Boutris.

We invite you to follow Boutris on her website, Twitter and blog. Explore all of her channels by clicking here.