BOMBS ARE HEAVENLY

Throughout the afternoon, I hold my bones like a bag of myself.
Here is a light that is my eye that is guiding you towards pigeons, eating food. When the light hits my body, is it real to you? Will I owe you anything other Than that? A hollow call down a hallway, or maybe just nothing in my mouth. The trigger of loitering. Your pubes are grazing against my ass. Like a cat, Slinking around the brim of the couch, forgetting why he started. I am the never-ending fire on the hill: the trail of my hair, the smoke. 

 

DELIA RAINEY is from St. Louis, Missouri. Her poems have been featured in  Blacktop Passages, Lower Lip ZineCactus HeartSweet: A Literary Confection, and the upcoming issue of Pleiades. Last year shewrote a poem every day. She is in a band called Dubb Nubb