IV, by Samantha Vargas


Gargoyle boy

Why don’t you study, boy?

Your mind a buzzing hive

of bustling bees and captive butterfly wings

with a chest of cement

cracked only once right down the middle.

Life water flows over bedrock

like tears and blood and tea and jam.

Crack the spine to a book you’re all too scared to read, dear boy.

It has words you’ve written, but never felt.

Why push away your dinner and hungrily devour a spicy spread of sluts and shouts instead?

This gold nectar,

sweet god nectar

that splashes past your tongue.

It quenches your misanthropic thirst.

We can make a world out of this shattered mirror and that still steams up when you shower for too long…

I want to shower with you.

Crinkled toes, no furrowed brows.

Leave scars and wars hurling past

and welcome the newborn babe blushing bride

who writes in colorful fingerpaints.

Oh, gargoyle boy

instead, love me.

-Samantha Vargas