After Simone Muenchi
and I hate you
for every couch I’ve left my mold in,
steamed tears into because your airy
groan filled the room. for every time
I’ve met a new word and weeped at
the possibility of it meaning both
bird and machine. for every pink clip
I’ve fastened to the strands of you.
for every man your gaze has loosened
from the clots of my wounds. for
every mirror I’ve searched worlds
to find, only to smash its glass at the sight
of my eager pulse. for the cut
of ancestral bile I’ve choked up
to be in conversation with you.
for every interlude I couldn’t stomach
skipping. for every time I opted for a
sad figure eight, a teary red wine of the
waist to the pulse of FUBU, deciding
on joy in the aftermath of robbery.
Meghan Malachi is a poet from New York City. She is the author of the poetry chapbook, The Autodidact, published by Ethel Zine & Press in 2020. She is a Creating Writing & Publishing MFA candidate at DePaul University.