A Story of Her
One
I kissed her because
she was beautiful
and I wanted to know
what pretty tasted like
Pretty tasted of dreams
dopamine and tears
Pretty tasted of illusions
hallucinogens and dew
That sprinkles her soft
but harrows her hard
White marble cuts a form
eyes too hold in the palm
of my pupils precariously
Fluid stone stagnant flow.
Two
We went to water.
Hell is hot pitch tar.
We are in a hot spring.
Similar, my love?
We went to church.
Hell is for homosexuals.
We are in damned love.
I pray, pray tell, if similar, love.
Sanctification, sodomite.
Divinity, dyke. Marble
morphs, horns form eyes
She is sin. Pope, pulpits
press more weight on my heart.
Stop, breath becomes air.
Three
It took Jesus three days.
It has been three months.
Bouts burst, tears tear down
my deflated heart.
The sea reminds me
of marble and hot springs
Wading in the water,
wanting to be washed
but too scared to take the plunge.
She’s drowned for all I know.
But, even after three months, I know
my body has no gills.
By Alicia Liu
Biography:
Alicia Liu is a rising sophomore at Swarthmore College. She’s currently undecided about her course of study, but she enjoys writing, reading, cooking, baking, and photography.