Jason
written by: Sarah Shihab
Remember the wicker as legs held too high, for the breeze breathes down a liquor cabinet that reaches a braised set of collars first.
Take a thread to stitch your rotten abrasions while you hide what you will of orgasms on knit blankets, now furnished by heat, scripted by Jason’s memory.
The breath reaches the boy in heaven last; his first sip will be among tainted willows and unorthodox sheep. He sees many, but never twisted elms morphed to elk antlers in a feverish haze.
Remind Jason that stomped hearts turn to a goo of slush at the sight of cursive stamps owned by those who wear wooden crosses too tightly around their foreign necks.
Ferment these words told, mold them to my bones, stick me to the angels’ hair, shrinking me if you must—I belong there most, stored with him, where nightmares cannot reach the purest boy known to nature, sickled in my chest.
- Jason - March 5, 2026
- Paired Gums - June 8, 2025
- Ties - February 3, 2025
