Mother Darling Flies to Fight Night in Vegas by Alexa Doran

….It no longer feels right to be
………..anywhere bodies aren’t bursting

…….to capacity, the sweat-skunk of man
…………..piss thick upon me. Maybe

…..I just need to see another man bleed
…………..to see pain crumple another physique

………………….I thought I could glam my way
………….out of grief, slip like silk

…….between the gore-gaga celebrities.
………………….Cocksure as a catwalk kiss

…….I thought I could panther past
………….my memory of boxing-gloved Wendy,

…………….her ice blue shift adrift between her knees,
……her eyes aqua as sky-ripped stream,

…………….asking me Do Michael and John feel
……..jilted by gender? I mean do boys ever quiver

……………….under their body’s anchor? And so I’m here
………..to record that quiver, to gauge the tender

………..of their leather fettered hands, to stencil forever
…the tectonics of man on night-glossed man.

……………….What would Wendy think if she were here
………among the slink of sweat-gemmed skin?

………Would she be convinced men know
……………….the cocoon burden, that they too spin

………….their own horizon, or would the lie rise
……………….between us, another sky-sized chasm?

Alexa Doran is the author of Nightsink, Faucet Me a Lullaby (Bottlecap Press 2019). Her series about the women of Dada, “The Octopus Breath on Her Neck,” was recently released in Oxidant/Engine’s BoxSet Series Vol 2. You can also find her in recent issues of Glass, Conduit, and Permafrost, among others. For a full list of publications, awards, and interviews please visit https://aed16e.wixsite.com/alexadoranpoet.