Kaitlin Dyer is a founding editor of Harlot: A Revealing Look at the Arts of Persuasion and editorial assistant for Poetry International. Her work has appeared in PANK, Poetry International, Web del Sol, and The Bicycle Review. She lives and wanders in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
The History of Sex
In the hot kitchen thinking about how hot
the water needs to be for a french press: I want
the beans roasted perfectly and you at the bar
looking at me, a laugh on its way to your face. That’s us.
I keep making this coffee strong because you’re
so damn calm all the time, and I want
to see your heart pump a bit faster,
your legs shuffle just a bit quicker—
to see you more frantic. But really I end
up standing in front of this French press with its
glass steaming up and my cup so empty,
standing and sitting and waiting until it has steeped
into the perfect history of sex.
I Plan to Have Prickly Pears in My Stomach
My dearest, I know you long for Saturdays where you sleep
until noon. Or you’ve been working so hard there are holes
in your stomach. Did you know, there are cacti in the desert
that bloom every spring, and, every spring, large lace flowers
poke through the prickly surface. I can’t help but wonder,
what will bloom from our holes? After all this work,
will your stomach burgeon with bright pink?
Let’s blot every mark of ourselves from this house
and pretend we’ve moved in new.