Queer Poem-a-Day is a program from the Adult Services Department at the Library and may include adult language.
A landline lets me dance with you.
My one-deck and your two-deck
are dialed to 98.5 fm without
an echo. If we speak aloud
this miracle of fiber wire
and radio wave, harmony
could split. From our speakers:
soft synth, a baseline, a choir
reverbing, a guitar riff that rises
and falls, asks and answers. I can’t
see your movement, the bedroom
you’re quiet in. Somewhere, bodies
like ours are pulsing under the same
pink neon to the same words
like violence, break–Bodies like ours
are touching and strangers watch
only because they’re gorgeous.
Let me pretend you’re back in my
bedroom, before my mother found us.
You’ve risen from the pine floor
and pulled me up. You want me
to stand for this. Let me pretend
all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever needed
is here. Tell me that’ll be us. Soon.
Copyright © 2022 by K. Iver. Originally published in The Adroit Journal, April 2022.