ana- or up against
cages are not useful whereas caves are
or crates
Weimaraner
curls
her long
body
into the plastic it might be a womb
a dream scape
what can fire do to brick sesame
oil?
cave paintings sculptures altars
our sleeping bags chrysalides
unzipped
to touch skin rock simultaneous
“what do you know about a U-Haul?” you ask
“I don’t
I’m thinking about urges”
denoting a specific type of scene
urge to rush to unbutton to sever to stay
“come back, I want to live together”
can it be earnest? “can I still hit?”
hollow witch
square pages against my better judgement
what if these two lovers are new to each other?
this is what a breast tastes like face of a waterfall
wet with algal networking
this is what a breast tastes like
I find you in the world music section
release another record that crosses a mountain
every bound body unbound
sweaty worker woven basket of sorghum
(radish/reddish)
it is an opening
the row
a thread runs through
yanking westward
this is the territory of the creek
topography of a forest appropriated
(name/remembrance)
I am from the middle
you are from the middle
many acres away
and years
there must be imagination in bondage
the way a tooth might be holed from gum paper stuffed
in the gaping place
love notes receipt of fare a bill
you sing to me after the sex
Jaye Elizabeth Elijah is a visual artist, writer, orbweaver, and the Nightboat Books Fellow. Their words and images have appeared in Polly Magazine and Rookie Magazine, and were recognized by the Cincinnati Arts Overture Awards. Jaye Elizabeth is pursuing a BA in Literary Studies at The New School, and lives in Brooklyn.