I want to fall in love
with someone who promises
to catch me
before the wind pushes me
right over the edge
Swears it’s the sugar in my tea
that makes it taste funny.
Tells me baby, baby, sshh
they know this road and its curves
like the back of their hand
while my curves rest
in their hands
as they let go of the wheel and promise
to swallow me whole.
Keeps a light on for me
in their apartment in Cap Hill
where the trans woman named Queen
hung herself
from broken nylon stockings
with a torn heart.
Where we spend our nights
knotting the bedsheets
while the meth head upstairs
vacuums the carpet away
before blowing her brains clean.
It’s easy to stand
on the concrete ledge
of the balcony,
the perfect size
for stiletto heels
still wobbling
from whiskey and cokes
the night before.
Promise me
there’s no wind,
the weather is perfect
for a stroll
around the ledge
of a balcony
in early morning.
Hands soft as pavement
as they push,
a voice thick as air
between my legs
whispering
baby, baby, sshh
Hillary Leftwich is co-host for At the Inkwell, a NYC based reading series and organizes/hosts other reading events around Denver. Her writing can be found in print and online.
–Foreground Art by Claudio Parentela
–Background Art by J Stimp