Ghost Love
My tarot said I was going
From the sun to the moon!
I’m like that little lobster!
Crawling around stupidly!
Palpating the situation!
Doing a business deal
With the dog and the wolf!
A famous one!
That no one can see!
Yes, revenge would be nice
I love having enemies…
My hatred and my enemies
Accessorize like the perfect choker!
Enemies have to be just right
Or else you’re an asshole
I’m a Virgo I would know about details!
I’m a woman I would know about rightness!
‘Cause I’ve been wronged
Ha ha yeah right
I’m just crawling willy nilly
Doing this thing that
In the reflected non-light
I’m so so tired
I feel bad bad bad
I heard go slow as ghost love
I heard calm as cum
Ambiguity humiliates me
Lick
Now that genital sex is trending downward
There’s no better time to exploit an oral fixation
I fed her a golden dildo
A spoonful of jelly
We licked glass and plastic
Porcelain figurines
Sometimes people forget there’s possibility
In a relic of coupling from the 70s
She saw me press my nipples against the divider—
Between the heart-shaped pool and the living room—
Phantoms milled She tongued the gap
When I put my toes in her mouth
I used her phone to film since it has the Lumee
Direct-to-Instragam
Someone offered to buy the full-length when no longer unemployed
When I adorned the stem of her drink with a wine charm
I felt we redefined the suburban trinket
It sparkled and gushed out
Samhain
The site of the domestic, demented into a strip club
Where stuffed animals are the only audience
Plush patrons with their Chanels out, dropping money
Down my bodysuit like it’s nothing
After after hours slow dust face down
Twerking softly into faux lamb as we rest but not sleep
We chant gay bitch on the pole, and miraculously the gay bitch rises
Rachel is still dressed like the porn star who married Jeff Koons
And ran for Italian parliament
I took my wig off for comfort then put it back on for fashion
There’s a chicken on Celeste
She’s laughing into purple
This is poultry perfectly in the G-string
Except the swan gets jealous
Now we are negotiating limits in a fantasy
I call a meeting: The chicken tells me she is an ass woman
Ok so, the swan gets the pussy
And we get the Genius Award for lesbians
In an extra-dimensional, objectum sexual configuration
Maybe next time we could go on our backs
Moving the double-ended dildo between us
Like a two-person saw over wood
While someone directs, with the chicken
And someone’s in a fur coat
We could incorporate the octopus more
I’m riding a strap-on
I’m gagging a strap-on
Moving ungracefully earnestly
Through a human centipede**
Gabby Bess is a writer who lives in New York. Twitter @seemstween. Venmo @gabbybess.
