10.6 / November & December 2015

Proposal

Give me your body: your elbows, your aches,
             the sweet mismatched hollows that dent
when you grin. Give me your secrets but whisper

             them slow, so that some far off midnight
when my knuckles are gnarled, knotted,
             and throbbing, you’ll distract me with tales

of long ago mischief and childhood shame.
             I’m a vampire for you and my hunger
has teeth. Give me your keloids, haunted

             and white, your abdominal zipper
from the terrible day when you had to be fetched
             from a field trip school bus. The men in white coats

swapped one pain for another. Give me that pain
             and give me that organ—your humming appendix
condemned to a dish. I’ll take, too, your sorrow

             and even your road rage. I want you, Love,
ugly and wild and real. Give me
             your hand, and I’ll reach, Babe, I’ll grip.





Anya Groner's poetry and prose can be read in The Atlantic, The Oxford American, Guernica, Meridian and The Rumpus. She teaches writing at Loyola University.
10.6 / November & December 2015

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