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The Orange House        James Goldworthy

Queensland, Australia
@james_goldworthy

ISSUE 3 - QUEER LOVE

Spend me again under amber eyes, 

playing victim to bitter flavors of familiar

flesh and grand illusions. Pursuits of

power link me to the chain: I am another

number on this street, but the keys on my

belt no longer fit this lock. 

 

Watch me sweat from fire stairs 

fumbling for my pride on broken steps; 

the shudder for the violence of another. 

Thorns grow through magnolias I prick

my fingers digging your garden my

body bleeds 

            soaks me through  

                      Birds drink from the     

                                            breaking bath I

fill. 

Force my hand to wind the 'knob, lay me in

the flavor of your appetite and the waves

you break inside me. Faucets long

unscrewed quicken to heat, I burn my

throat on boiled, curdling cream; you trace

my element with your mouth. 

 

Pull these blinds on red rounds who

shout; a bottle bursts a lip and calls a

favour; I kiss your millstones before you

bolt the doors on every room; on every

level lounge sounds   

                      follow me 

down. 

 

These homes orange peel, unpolished; 

Someone else's muscle car is yours,

now. In your kitchen, I throw my keys in

a yellow bin, kiss your skin fridge the

frightening of my expiry And down a

glass of   

                       carbonated 

milk.