Willa Stonecipher
The city shines with gleaming pikes
and gargoyle girls,
our laughter guttural as you suck on
every penny that lands tails up,
the streets gummy with cobbles who scream
and smart the balls of your feet,
sticky with dreams collected
from the back of your throat.
We spout out last night’s conquest,
the five pints of ale you downed
in eight, seven, six,
five,
your fizzy kiss outside
the palace she calls home,
four,
the mist over the skyline’s spires
hanging as supple as her tits,
three,
does she hunger
for the kebab van
or for you?
two,
when you fastened her head
in your hands, did she feel
like a real girl?
one,
when did you realize
we could turn you
to stone?
Willa Stonecipher is a historian-in-training at Harvard University.
