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Talahiban Blues

King Llanza

First, there was the night. The side

of the highway, the moving short-sighted

lights unblinking to the nonchalant gaze

of all it passes. A man lights up a dirty flame

like a probe scouting another planet

although we’ve never met before.

He takes us behind grass which exceeds my height

a few inches. Then, he’s inside my mouth

as I position to vulnerability.

Moist soil risks stains if

I kneel. Eyes closed, he is received.


Down here, I am closer to hell. With open

eyes, I look past his silhouette:

stars. Shooting

                        seeds in my mouth,

I pulled away, spat it out.


Almost a diluted fantasy. Men

as strangers distant like stars, where

brilliance is in the warm white,

lost on my tongue to its own bitter taste.

The release is signal for leaving

and to lose suspicion,

I became a remnant. An aftertaste

coats my throat with struggle. Walking

back to the side of the road,

cars and trucks still pass by,

a shred of wind chasing after each one.

The highway of my desire awakens.


PROJECT GRACE-UP

NATIONAL LGBTQ+

WRITERS WORKSHOP

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