i have a whole pinterest board of recipes to make with you
When I say I want a kitchen with a farmhouse sink, I mean I had a dream of you as a honied sun—burning me alive. I’ll tell you this at our messy kitchen table, and you’ll lay another card, two of cups, on the gingham vinyl tablecloth. I look for omens in the orange bursting
beneath your teeth. I cannot dream without bursting, by which I mean, I rebuild myself of clouds and sink into the patterns we’ll build: coffee and slow vinyl— song spinning out beneath your honied tongue. I’ll float round your hips and card my fingers through the day’s curling mess
I wake sinking into messy sheets, vinyl-eyed honeydrunk fool, bursting open to fill my empty bed.
Klein Voorhees [they/them/theirs] is a trans agender poet from North Carolina, currently pursuing their MFA. You can read their work in magazines such as CP Quarterly, Monstering, and deathcap. Find them on Twitter: @kleinvoorhees.