A Poem by Krystal Languell

  Hate Is Unbecoming              His dreams are of the next sex vacation. Average bodies permitting anonymity that I can’t stomach. My fantasy is that I’ll find another little circus in a parking lot. A broken Zoltar machine in Baltimore one winter, I fed it quarters anyway and wished him out of my blood, wished myself tougher, more relevant by which I mean the … Continue reading A Poem by Krystal Languell