is just another way to say entangled. Pink horizons braiding
into a single island of salt, heat, light. All the trees swarmed
with lichen, green lace swallowing bone, brightening
dead bark. We sat in his car, let the dark and the waves and the curtain
of warm noise swallow us, gore us backwards.
A firefly in his vein— I’ll cut it open,
let crimson light flood the room. I’ll tell the truth. I’ll bite
through my own instincts, that cold voice hissing hide,
choke on the torn glass
of his fingers, turn on the heater. I’ll cut it open. I’ll
wait till entangled froths
at our ankles, reddens our mouths, I’ll wait
till we can’t make out any horizon
besides the bright sting of his hand in my hair, trying
to separate the strands, and failing, again
Sofia (Sof) Sears (they/them) is a queer, horror-obsessed writer from Los Angeles. Their work has been featured or is forthcoming in publications such as Diagram, Sonora Review, Waxwing, LA Times, and others. You can find their work at sofsears.com. Their Instagram is @heart.mouth and their Twitter is @sofesears.