It’s the apocalypse, maybe we should fuck?

by  Ashley Howell Bunn 

By fuck, I mean that I thought of you while driving through the plains
the wind pushed so hard it stagnated the birds in their flight

and I thought about the desert and what the sun would feel like
and what you would feel like on me

but I think you like the cold and I could see purple mountains
and blue snow out the window as we drove

those nights when the sky is so bright it almost ceases to exist
like when thighs open and there is an end but not really and we keep coming

back to when I’d like to meet you here again but this is the end of something
and the sand and snow of other lifetimes mixes with my clay

and we reform, again
and again,

all I’m saying is that if this is the end where is our climax
and I want to spread open and open and open until I cease to exist

Ashley Bunn is pursuing an MFA in poetry through Regis University where she is also a writing consultant. She is on the editorial staff of the literary journal Inverted Syntax. Her work has appeared in The Colorado Sun, South Broadway Ghost Society, the series Head Room Sessions, and more. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her son and partner. Sabiyha Prince is an anthropologist, artist, and author based in Washington, DC.  Her books and essays explore urban change and African American culture, and her paintings and photo collages grapple with memory, identity, kinship and inequality.

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