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White-Picket-Fence Lesbians

By Allison Rothrock

  1. Untitled
    Untitled
    By Eleena Ghosh
  
I often ask of her: 
Do you love me 
Like God, 
Or like a kneeling man? 
 

She doesn’t always answer, 
But sometimes lines her skin 
In the red-soft palate 
Of butterflies and sin; 
 

Her lips flutter like dove wings, 
Snap shut, I think, like Eve; 
Instead we trade our fingers,  
Tongues full of Judas-things; 
 

Mouth comes a cut of secret, 
One hand of forbidden flesh 
Plucks from me an apple 
Like you would a breast. 
 

She doesn’t always answer, 
But she looks me right 
In the hole where eyes go. 
God must like lying, too, 
Or she wouldn’t do it so well. 
 

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