"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her.

More space taken by her body,

More decibels conquered by her voice,

More time by her wakefulness,

More equations by her addition.

She wants more, I want less.

Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain.

I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright.

She traffics in surplus,

I bare my essentials.

Her world is elastic but brittle.

Mine is bony but moonlit.

Hers flows, she ebbs.

Mine ebbs, I flow.

She dies in life, I live in death.

—Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

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Paul SOctober 20, 2017 at 7:17 AM
We share a weakness for tragic beauty!
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