The Greeks sank
Their bodies gold
My body is Greek
What can I say to you
Your dick inside someone
Night is a cloud
A big swathe of people
Darkness in the crevasses
Little earlobes
The green leaves already weeping
I feel Doric
I feel Ionic
My body thumps and rises
Curled symbol of ecstasy
I name myself Peninsula
*
People are really useless when they're afraid
When I know you're making art I scream a little
My pants scream if you know what I mean
I feel so in love that I go to jury duty
I glide up the staircase
Looking for a way to be more you
*
The first person you loved will die
Their ass will be gone
All of your cats will die and their arrow jaws will break
Come with me
My mother was sad for ten years
The curtains will die
Your giant startling veracity
There's a greenhouse in the park next to the cemetery where Jimi Hendrix
is buried
Across the street is a big tree encircled with benches
Everyone will die
The wet smoke of night won't save us
Emily Kendal Frey is the author of Airport (Blue Hour 2009), Frances (Poor Claudia 2010), and The New Planet (Mindmade Books 2010) as well as three chapbook collaborations. Her first full-length collection, The Grief Performance, will be published by Cleveland State University Poetry Center in 2011. She lives in Portland, Oregon. .