excerpt from "i, minotaur" by natalie diaz

i was anointed in pre-raphaelite oil

the night we met

you draped me in white sheep-fur

and carried me in the rain

shivering, wet, but delirious with warm joy

now this dry tongue, a tired and ancient thirst

ages my face

every sigh a broken sermon

bankrupt of youth

less to offer every time i start anew—

catastrophic perfume,

a memory

richochets

in the autumn air

the knife moves in slow motion;

i miss you more than i remember you;

i remember myself more

i revisit her corpse

a fairy reanimated!

in the green fungus of my brain

all those wild nights look prettier

from the rear view mirror

grief is just love

with no place to go

no arms to hold. not even my own.

the sun spills into the train

and warms my thirst, mocking me with fever

i feel like coughing

but instead i laugh,

i force a mirage of joy

i do not need to feel a thing

when i can make it all up

but when i said goodbye

at the bus stop

it was raining

and i lied. i wanted to kiss you too.

if you touched my cheek

you would have known;

you would have felt my fever.