"post-traumatic sex drive", Dustin Wong
there is a mattress, and you
pull me towards you. strewn
amongst the mud and grass,
we are intertwined. you are
salt and copper. i feel nothing
between my legs. my boots
bite at my heels despite being
back in camp. words tumble
from your mouth. i paint targets
over your teeth. each time your
phone buzzes my fingers twitch.
we kiss with cracking lips. it is
sweet, but only because a smoke
grenade has gone off in my lungs.
now it’s spilling over the sheets. i
blink. you giggle from behind a
chemical haze. the vibrator is
mute in my hands. you claw at
my face but my skin is numb.
the a/c freezes over our heads.
a machine gun goes off where
my heart should be, and i am
afraid of showering you in
molten brass. you tell me
you fear nothing. leaning
back, you invite me between
your legs. taking aim, my
finger fumbles on the trigger.