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Gender & Sexualityexpand_moreHow do you beat a man who refuses to rise from a puddle of his own blood.
References to and portrayals of hypocrisy, moral sloth, venery.
A boy in a dress vanishes beneath the sound of his own galloping.
Who needs driftwood when I can bury myself in your loamy soil.
My love swims you, your shoulders like hard sails under the green curls.
I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.
I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.
When the light failed she listed all the places he might find her.
All I could focus on was if he was going to ask me to date him.
The draft of ten handwritten pages would have to be cut back to five.
We put effort into making things that No Man would ever think of creating.
If every cowboy has a sad song, I’m afraid you are mine to perform.
I am the king of doing wheelies on the Stingray bicycle of my mind.
He’d always wanted to kiss her thigh dimples but never dared.
I remember speaking to Allison who asked me if I wanted to be a girl.
If Vann kisses her, a mist will rise in her brain. A promise of oblivion.
Rain falls steadily, rattling down drainpipes and gurgling into gutters.
Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.
We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.
I miss sex. I really liked it, and I was good at it, if I do say so myself.
I will make my own man I will stitch together a coat of drunk minks
Bright rot laces the air, light sharpens each leaf. On our way to fallow, fire.
There is something on my mind rushing up as river in a locked car.
The next time we made love, I looked for the fox looking down at me.
It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.
The girls got drunk, danced to Russian karaoke under disco-light glitz.
The light is like a benediction. My husband reaches for my hand.
We’re stuck floating around on the surface of our lives like kids in a pool.
Best-selling author Melanie Gideon reads from her novel Wife 22.
