rain, glitter, rain

Jesse Rice-Evans
Content Warnings
"You kept looking at me like you wanted to touch me..."
Dec 28, 2020 9:50 PM

after Frank Ocean

You kept looking at me like you wanted to touch me

I thought it would be worse: the seams of my body

tearing in secret, an addendum unfiled, unfiltered

The way my body hurts doesn't require anything from you

           means nothing                       needs nothing

is like that long wailing whale sound, 

only from inside me, and sliced into fragments

thinner than a tooth, but just as wary and vibrating at a frequency

you can't touch, spiralling, but too slowly

to even notice, a broken orbit, an okay metaphor

for the stretching and thinning

is rain

is glitter

is rain

Not always pretty, but full of tongues and

girls and whichever slices of me you'd like to see, 

the same crimped guts you've come to expect, 

shaded swirl, something ruined about my face

I wanted to be cornered


JESSE RICE-EVANS is a queer Southern poet and rhetorician based in NYC. Read her work in Heavy Feather Review, Yes Poetry, tenderness yea, and in the chapbooks The Rotting Kind (Ghost City Press) and Soft Switch (Damaged Goods Press), among others. She's a PhD candidate at the CUNY Graduate Center and teaches writing at the City College of New York and the Cooper Union.

You kept looking at me like you wanted to touch me