Mo Buckley Brown


i still think about the endless faces you’ve cupped in your hands; cold, writhing, silent. always

across the room, looming — i think about how often you cut your hair and when you might’ve

asked for help. i could have stayed another week and let the pewter absolve me. could have

stayed another month and prayed at your porch. but i like it better this way — desire should be

endless. it should have no period, no context. to carve a cheek into the hillside, suckle the

barren pits of mulch; i wanted to find you pathetic beneath the stairs, but you maintained

strength and mystery. as if you were fiction. i still think about you.

i am in love, now; i should not linger on the romance of empty rooms. but imagine an altar:

plasticine standing, sunburnt shedding, sweat upon a brow. i forgot your name — i’m sure

mine is meaningless now.

Mo Buckley Brown is a writer and visual artist based in Seattle, Washington. They hold a BA in Creative Writing from Western Washington University and have been featured in Jeopardy Magazine. They are also a founder and editor-in-chief of the online literary magazine Jelly Squid.