I go to watch porn & pretend
that my family won’t read this.
The couplet asks me to do myself
twice. Enough to get me off
for now. I submit
to the flood. The uncaring
of water is abundantly clear,
overfilling, brimming, wash-
cloths bouqeting out my gut
until my mouth thinks itself
into a dead pond. Still. Listen.
Hear in the nothing I am finally
alone. I write about the moon.
I am an idiot. My honesties can’t
trick my disorders. Self-love
is discipline, so do it, daddy,
hold down my wrists & I promise
I’ll cum all over your leaving.
Michaela Godding is a queer poet with chapbook dwelling (Bottlecap Press), and full collection The Year Our Grandmothers Died (AOS Publishing). More of her words can be found in or are forthcoming from Fruitslice, Rabble Review, Azarão Lit Journal, Same Faces Collective, The Nutmeg Anthology (Grayson Books), and on Poetry Daily, where she currently works as an editorial assistant. When she's not reading or writing poems, she's eating SpongeBob Kraft mac and cheese straight out of the pan with the big spoon.
