To a smaller than average man – stretched out in the crease of her tongue with one heel hooked over his opposite ankle, leaning back, palms flat, idly massaging the shag of papillae with his fingers running between them – to him, the view would be be

One Lip to Earth and One Lip to Heaven

So, I considered the anemone and considered its syllables, and considered the way they decayed in my mouth. They’re not bird seeds.

Spanish, Ontario

I remember two other times when you strangled me to death and all that shit. I remember echoes on the Pale River, struck with a jolt of agony. Oh Barbarian! I remember acrid sheaths of caresses or the bites of a kitten moist at your heels!

Molly Saltzman

Selected work