Eve Rounds

i wrote you a letter

remember when we were laying in bed
and for no reason at all
we switched sides?

we were both reading (the new yorker and some obscure novel), though I don’t think that four words per minute can actually count as reading.

other literature distracted us.
I narrated the stuttering salt of your beard.
you quoted the braille of goosebumps down my neck.
eyes within eyes within scent
told stories.
teeth and tongues sketched
tall tales to skin.
our laughter marked the next chapter.

in a single insignificant moment, my own commonplace inhalation was shared by your equally ordinary exhalation.
eyes within eyes within breath was understood.
sealed with the lyric of our lips.
this is why.this.
remember that?
remember this.
it’s about to happen.


good morning untitled

what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as

snip snip

the magic of a fresh cut i am literally lighter though not by much my shoulders have less to lug my neck has less to

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!


is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love