We Made Love Here on the Way to Joshua Tree

Laurence White

you are in LA with the dead girl
who has my name,
    my grandmother’s name
you dated the devil once, then me
her love of red and hurting men like god
    until it wasn’t
your words are sweet gossamer
fool’s gold mouth, you said everything
a little girl would want to hear
    you left her
she pressed her nose against the glass
of your life and drowned herself
in our love and, a field of flowers
it rained so much that California winter
all the poppies that bloomed after

you touched me softer, loved me softer
after her, you only wanted it softer
I called you eternity, you left an angel
in your childhood heaven for a city
of dead names, dead girls loving ghosts
    like your savior loved you
what is it like to speak, yellow tongue
curled like currency that bought
cheap poetry named after me,
    the word Forever said
for a sixth time, an already lifeless body

Laurence White (they/them) is a non-binary Kentucky born poet who lives in Santa Cruz, California. Their latest publication appears in the anthology What Keeps us Here: Songs from The Other Side of Trauma. When Laurence is not speaking or listening, they are in silence or searching for its stillness. There you will find them.

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