By Brody Alix
Long summer, half-forgotten —
when I felt I was dying,
I thought of writing past lovers as if their memory of me
could keep the disease from spreading.
You begged, what do you do all afternoon in the bedroom?
Praying, I said, red,
Cuius regio, eius religio —
keep the windows open.
Bewaring the beetle on my bed,
raven cawed across the lake;
the sun fell and verges darkened.
I am rapture, the hoggish brute setting ablaze the marshes —
indulge me, my love,
my sins are mine to scythe.
I promise I'll wake early tomorrow.
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Brody Alix is a Canadian writer and poet. She holds an MA in English Literature from University College London. Her work has appeared in flo. literary magazine, Common Ground Review, and was featured as part of Pride Toronto 2022. You can find her on Instagram @brodyalix.