Little did you know about the implant.

You thought so so hard about the couple,

about the made beds of some kid's parents,

and how it was we two—there—stayed the same.

Little did we know—drunk, sleeping children—

about the aliens, eyeless, hairless,

regarding our embrace from the distance

of our futures, craving torrid zen,

and the perfect turn of a bent lifetime.

They drew their razor on our teen intent,

and seamed into the felted, virgin wool,

the undone, the unmade, the unpliant.

Don't you remember what they said to us?

"Good children, hold hands and run in the house."



first published in the anthology Devouring the Green (Jaded Ibis, 2015)