in last night’s dream i knowingly did awful. our love’s trauma

snuffs the courtyard, salts it glass-stained—vegetation grows

only to house the tongues of snakes, preening to bite. the old hotel

encores its chant of honeymoon suites, all of them buzzing 

decaywards. my own soul, askew, charms against what was once

a mattress, now a trundle slipping with lip-whispers. there are sorry stories 

in all the bathtubs where legs, not ours, once tangled rubbery. we sit in them 

now, our own legs wet with shard-cuts perfect for re-reddening the carpets. 

flies garland us pastural & we wear the best remains of night clothes recovered 

from the wedding pool. this is the future we would never dream of 

leaving. watch us appear tenfold in every broken mirror, all our old laughs 

the dying out of auditorium chatter. there is nothing for us here. 

this hellscape, our hellscape. we are so mundane at the threshold 

of this cosmic tonsil sweetening to swallow its rightful hole of earth.  


Kailey Tedesco is the author of She Used to be on a Milk Carton (April Gloaming Publishing), Lizzie, Speak, and FOREVERHAUS (both White Stag Publishing). She is a senior editor for Luna Luna Magazine, and she teaches literature and writing in Bethlehem, PA. You can find her work featured in Black Warrior Review, Fairy Tale Review, Gigantic Sequins, Passages North, The Journal, and more. For further information, please visit kaileytedesco.com. 

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