after Hala Alyan
I almost slept with the bartender. And the other one. And that one. But I didn’t. I slept with your brother. For two years. No I didn’t. I used to steal underwear from Target. Zebra stripes. Pink lace. Oh, look what I’ve done to you. Are you okay? How about now? I pretend to be asleep. I pretend to leave. I pretend to say grace. Do you remember what I did to you? The bed and your arm. The door and my hip. All the men I ran away from. And you. I never told. TV in the other room scrambling the air. Night static. Sun rising over snow. I like the window seat best. If the plane is going down I want to know.
In our dream band, on upright bass:
Audrey Gidman is a queer poet living in Maine. Her poems can be found or are forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Luna Luna, The Inflectionist Review, Bear Review, Volume Poetry, SWWIM, Okay Donkey, Rogue Agent, Wax Nine, Juke Joint, perhappened, The Shore, The West Review, and elsewhere. She serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for Gigantic Sequins and her chapbook, body psalms, winner of the Elyse Wolf Prize, is forthcoming from Slate Roof Press. Twitter // @audreygidman