by Bradley Trumpfheller
I could be your shiniest suburbia. Homecoming
tiara on your backseat floorboard & my sash
in the mudbanks. In this lifeline, my mama
shows me where to dab the honeysuckle, lashes
a gardenia through my hair. No dowry, no
waspwing. My throat
congratulated with old spoons & your lipstick.
I’m stadium lights on our faces. I’m the dawn
pop pink lip gloss plus rings. Plus
tattoos on my thighs. Let’s lose
track of time. Let’s punk the twilight ethereal.
I could be such a sunroof
for you. You once & future lawn chair
blonde. There are enough other universes
to last us our lives. My, my, my.
I could be the football blue decade without us.
I could be half a buzzcut
from safe. For once
upon a time I’m done
apologizing. Every kind of boyish
is attainable to me. The gap in my teeth
& a grass stain. Here, everyone lives
next door to everyone else.
The sky’s so bright she’s ancient.
Bradley Trumpfheller is the author of the chapbook Reconstructions (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2020). They are the co-editor of Divedapper and currently live outside of Boston.