Of Edge, Our Depth is Our Debt
jagged
swells thrash our ensemble
I cull milky mouthfuls, sitting here rushing
to nothing, slowing tomorrow. to be
(and longing for) shade— rained out
in the broken heat. that’s how— not
perfect, sprawling, no tree, just
total induction.
you call and say you fell in love and now what
shaded mad/ly I’m talking to you
in the depth of the colosseum, back
pinned to literally all of time sky
my final body part, my final boss to be
come we DJ this atmosphere
so good, get common, tell
about it, unfurnish the home, temp
workers circling the aging coffee
machine to find what sort of ledges
I can balance on, while I spy your screen
you want to know the mouth of the river
and where it swallows the sea.
I cull milky mouthfuls, sitting here rushing
to nothing, slowing tomorrow. to be
(and longing for) shade— rained out
in the broken heat. that’s how— not
perfect, sprawling, no tree, just
total induction.
you call and say you fell in love and now what
softening flumes this is how
we escape
into the swill of what you called
desire but I knew was its opposite.
Standing here tomorrow, how can I want
the same thing as you, if what I want
is you. Torrential Ivy, I climb your
physical body to get closer to the sun–
you offer no shade, you shade into
me.
into the swill of what you called
desire but I knew was its opposite.
Standing here tomorrow, how can I want
the same thing as you, if what I want
is you. Torrential Ivy, I climb your
physical body to get closer to the sun–
you offer no shade, you shade into
me.
shaded mad/ly I’m talking to you
in the depth of the colosseum, back
pinned to literally all of time sky
my final body part, my final boss to be
come we DJ this atmosphere
so good, get common, tell
about it, unfurnish the home, temp
workers circling the aging coffee
machine to find what sort of ledges
I can balance on, while I spy your screen
you want to know the mouth of the river
and where it swallows the sea.
No panties, I
simmer
where froth ends such that I
am your beach and naked splinter
worlds—that is sex. What I have
w you, is sky transposing into
a fingerprint so what overarches
us all is now just your mark. I smell
it. I send my resume to flowers
choking on the side of the road
to see if they will show me how
to survive love.
am your beach and naked splinter
worlds—that is sex. What I have
w you, is sky transposing into
a fingerprint so what overarches
us all is now just your mark. I smell
it. I send my resume to flowers
choking on the side of the road
to see if they will show me how
to survive love.
I lost so many hours sitting on your couch,
begged for your audience, worked hard,
deserved all the praise in the world.
deserved money. lay in the thunder.
crawled in your elevator. stood still.
dedicated the day to wanting
to show you the translation of moss on concrete
even ignored you, and the ancient sand mixing
with the imported beach, trolled out nostalgia
so lyrically unsatisfied such perfect strangers
warping the sycamore that slams the hummingbird
I snap each morning while you spit a mouthful at me
my mouth a net full of your fish spacious indifference
the greatest gift unprovoked solitude.
I begged your truth,
flashed the swanning ring
of your voice into the clouds like
bat symbol and lovers knew, they
always know. Your tides rise w
mine—that is desire. Look at how
shores ache for you to wash upon
them. Look how they chase you back
into the sea. My collapse was predictable.
flashed the swanning ring
of your voice into the clouds like
bat symbol and lovers knew, they
always know. Your tides rise w
mine—that is desire. Look at how
shores ache for you to wash upon
them. Look how they chase you back
into the sea. My collapse was predictable.
you call to say you fell in love and now what
I lost all my poetry, I learned
how to tie new knots craggy sonnets
(barely sonnets, you said)
your ass thick as marble, lasting like epochs
BC type loving prelapsarian my never
high pressured assemblages never
quite here and never quite leaving
the clouds are rushing to nothing my endzone spiked
And winning speaking in pauses fucked my bookshelf
dustmite spilly post office trapping the baby birds
with their mother next to your soaked up arms, new birds
in mine beyond the cut far beyond belly flopped
the waves popping blotches and sea rocks glassy
Into pink, into folding, into
setting
the sun was predictable and
you offered me no shade
so now I am bordering, my
under eyes an edge and this
pink cradles our day
lets not margin our time
together lets flow the page
lets flow it like your ankles
for which there are no words
complete, no finish line
for description for where your
feet meets body meets arrangement
you curve partial you curve
me completely I am petaling
around this is sound this is sound
you offered me no shade
so now I am bordering, my
under eyes an edge and this
pink cradles our day
lets not margin our time
together lets flow the page
lets flow it like your ankles
for which there are no words
complete, no finish line
for description for where your
feet meets body meets arrangement
you curve partial you curve
me completely I am petaling
around this is sound this is sound
this is the sound of saying
I want to film us fucking if that’s
okay with you, it’s okay if it’s not.
I want to film us fucking if that’s
okay with you, it’s okay if it’s not.
look,
look how you could walk on it,
scaling bridges,
you have to be at once careful, carefree
instead become a long term architect – vulnerable
to losing, to purple anger to changing
so slowly, right before your eyes, while
I describe it the water rises
moon ghosts the tide app
its surging Untrackable—we are:
how beautiful you render me alone
that’s proustian baby
I mean that’s why you can’t trust a poet
your situation pulses
such
many many ideas and
like that your hem is infinite
for me to slide
my finger on and pause here
and pause there.
like that your hem is infinite
for me to slide
my finger on and pause here
and pause there.
Lest, hard enough, this sour
now but you. I have you.
For now. I have you.
now but you. I have you.
For now. I have you.
so would you dare
bottom with your eyes open suspend
your belief that no one could break you
as good as you know how to break yourself
new cracks in the lightning in the backseat
you brutal machine exquisite gadget
pocketed cliff hanger
you don’t need to believe me to love me
every so often you just have to
turn to look
Rosie Stockton is the author of Permanent Volta (Nightboat Books 2021) and Pumpjack (Other Weapons Distro 2022). They hold an M.A. in Creative Writing from Eastern Michigan University and are currently a Ph.D. Candidate in the Gender Studies Department at UCLA. Rosie lives and works in Los Angeles.
