Sunday Evening by Kevin Hüttenmüller

there’s a procedure here fine tuned to the last bit
fresh meat packed in plastic film
you’re making me have fever dreams in turn
i let you claw your consumerism right
into me scab picker burning haystack & you
mustn't go near it the sharp wedge in the back
of my head screaming midriff prostitute but i can’t
help opening another door & see what’s vanishing
you hook a whisper to my earlobe chant despite
the narcotics already banishing this
dimension sedated needlework tourniquet rift like
a planet elipsing & sometimes
you take it off like a bubble in soft focus bullet-train
tongue sweetheart hangnail alone
before you found me a blister peeking from dusk.
Kevin Hüttenmüller (he/him) is a writer and student currently studying special education in Germany. His work is forthcoming or published in Free Verse Revolution, Miniskirt Magazine and Mandarin Magazine. You can find him on Twitter @_ThisIsMyCurse_