# #marks

4 poems

## [photobooth](https://chromato.graphics/photobooth)

shoes stick to the floor,  
we wander past the bar  
into a dim red-lit lounge.  
pinball, locked door, you.  
you’re a seeing machine.  
pull your curtain closed—  
shroud us in secrets that  
end just above our waist.

tap on a train faregate,  
a beep reminds us that  
transportation isn’t free,  
a short trip still costs us.  
you’re a seeing machine.  
see what we’re made of.  
we’re trapped here now,  
we can’t hide from flash.

all whirring and waiting.  
don’t know how long ’til  
our capture, our release.  
we kiss from impatience.  
you’re a seeing machine.  
our mouths are blurring,  
hands in hair, bite marks  
in flesh. we have no time.

falling back into the light.  
was there music before?  
we lean against the box,  
we cannot lose contact.  
you’re a seeing machine.  
you take time to develop.  
wait here: a strip will fall.  
freeze us in four frames.

![Black-and-white four-frame photobooth strip of two people kissing.](https://chromato.graphics/_astro/photobooth.CBK1CijU_Z184ngP.webp)

## [poke](https://chromato.graphics/poke)

door opens— am i the fool?  
gloves snap, now i’m playing my role  
unstained steel tray cradles your tools  
you wash me clean, i cede control

you sketch small leaves in purple ink  
i play with you, this is our game  
when it’s all done, what will they think?  
art, artist, work— all share a name

calmly you ask “_ready for stabs?_”  
there’s not a way for me to know  
is this your temple or your lab?  
we share one breath, it’s time to go

your sword and your eyes penetrate  
music and pain blanket my brain  
sometimes we should disregulate  
questions pour out, blood from a vein

hours pass as you make passes  
pricks turn into private pleasure  
when we are through, our flesh collapses  
every mark is made forever

## [stick](https://chromato.graphics/stick)

winter cherry, lush  
pressed to the pane :  
clear swirling glass,  
vessels for grapes

red print attracts  
gazes from gays  
strange artifacts  
mouths go astray

first contact lasts  
longer than stains  
washed away fast —  
much like our brains

they always say  
lips that disguise  
can’t be the way,  
but never the why

shouldn’t we just  
paint what we feel  
even if lips must  
become the meal

## [accident(ily)](https://chromato.graphics/accidentily)

one fifty-four  
is not the hour  
to send texts,  
no autocorrect

risky confessions  
clipped affections  
dimmed i love you’s  
from neon rooms

could be a typo  
should i just lol  
or say her name,  
reply the same?

an oops can’t erase  
the thrumming bass  
as juniper slips  
from her bruised lips

tripping on her tongue  
_fuck. uhh. drunk. umm._  
not that  
not yet

or at least —  
not like this