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BDSM
by Jarrett Moseley

I want to feel nothing. My head is a vase. Dig the sinew 
out of my cheek, tie it like rope round my wrists. 
Tongues curling into pillows are sad. Little pink prisoners,
they never escape. When you called me daddy
your pupils slimmed with desire: stretched putty. 
Everyone’s agreed on dying but not yet. 
Coffins, craters, nail marks, silence. Chasing
hurt, not damage. A room full of wedding veils surprises
as I crawl through it. A burning house, as we walk
inside slow as we can. On the sidewalk leading up
I confused smashed eggfruit for kumquat. In bed, I confused 
too plumb for to come. To help you come, I pretended 
everything was normal. I kissed your ribcage 
like you’d never emptied mine. The past was undone 
like morning shadows. If I could do this right, I thought,
everything else might shed away. Flat and dry 
were my hands as I spanked you. You loved me
you said between gasps. You said you wanted to be good.

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BDSM by Jarrett Moseley