Smoke

The hand begs attention / then forgiveness / as I catch weak light / gone and coming / back to the body /

smoke after pinched wick / the body aches / for the body / aches with fear / for sharper teeth / small

mutinies of bone / slicing the wet / of my cheeks / sheets / pillows of cheeks / for my fingers / what I had /

too hot to ever—

Eli lives and works in Portland, ME, where he gets his daily dose of low-stakes human interaction bagging groceries at Trader Joe's. Outside of work, he tries to balance writing, rock climbing and spending time with the people that he loves. His work exists at the intersection of intimacy and mental health.

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