10.2 / March & April 2015


You’ve got me where you want me
but what wants are left are paltry;
I’ve bailed, searching out the lick
in the split crow footprint of your spit,
left to dry white astride my thighs.
Let me rinse this off and watch
what scenes crop up in the fray
of each time you couldn’t come out.
Playing with you is like teaching
a humpback whale how not to breach.

Allison LaSorda's work has recently appeared in The Malahat Review, CV2, The Rusty Toque, and Fjords Review. She lives in Toronto, Ontario.
10.2 / March & April 2015