Lotus Eater
By Shannon Marzella
Brooklyn, you were a hot mouth of wolf-
hunger. Those nights, you ate me whole,
ribs & everything, then spit out
an acidic sunrise–orange
blisters split and cackling, or maybe
it was you pouring laughter, filthy
and bright. I forgot everything
but the cross painted on your right arm,
your faceless cathedral. I blessed
it as sirens stormed daylight
through open windows. I forgot
the black coffin of the 7 train and
the sweet, dank stench of subway breath
imparted tenderly from its glowing innards.
Those nights, I wanted and I
wanted and I wanted
your city heat and its grave undoing. Tell me
you wanted me, too– pink and lonesome, melted
into your cloistered grip. Tell me you wanted
my body strewn across your floor, soft and broken.
This story originally appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 19. Support local booksellers and independent publishers by ordering a print copy of the magazine.
Photo by Nathan Hurst