La Douleur Exquise

I dream in spirals—
orange rinds untoothed from the pulp,
a roller coaster looped in my backyard,
the first lurch—a heart-throat drop.
I was afraid I wouldn’t find love,
you confess, an unbuttoning that
makes my fingers shake. I try holding
objects—cold stones, ceramic mugs,
a hammer and wrench—for their
lack of filament but still, everything
glows. Desire is like that. A house
tipped on its side. Spun into natural
disaster. Origami birds shitting into flight,
careening walls. Their creases, some
more careful version of me folded,
just out of reach.
Just out of reach, some more careful
version of me folded, their creases,
careening walls, origami birds shitting
into flight, spun into natural disaster.
A house tipped on its side. Desire is like
that, everything glows, for their lack of
filament but still—cold stones, ceramic
mugs, a hammer and wrench. I try holding
objects— an unbuttoning that makes my
fingers shake. I was afraid I wouldn’t find
love, you confess, a heart-throat drop,
a roller coaster looped in my backyard,
the first lurch, I dream in spirals—
orange rinds untoothed from the pulp.

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Megan Merchant (she/her) is the owner of www.shiversong.com and holds an M.F.A. degree from UNLV. She is a visual artist and, most recently, the author of A Slow Indwelling (Harbor Publications) and Hortensia, in winter (winner of the New American Poetry Prize). She is the Editor of Pirene’s Fountain. See meganmerchant.wixsite.com/poet.