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.

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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_