SENTIENT LEAVES

The sea was at the other end of the city.

You started to go out late at night, and walk to the sea.

The sea was your lover T. The sea was your German lover, or the one

Before him. The sea was briefly exciting. We daydreamed about God.

The sea had strange shoulders like cave’s walls seeping greasy cocaine.

The sea was the fresh balls of my German lover’s boyfriends.

We had mothers that we loved, and warm bottles

Of cheap whiskey. So we went home,

Leaving the pigs unwrapped behind us

In the baskets.

PURDEY LORD KREIDEN is either watching Creepypasta, studying or at the pub. Her book Children of the Bad Hour is published by Ugly Duckling Presse, and her co-translation with Michael Thomas Taren of Tony Duvert's L'Ile Atlantique is forthcoming from Semiotext(e).