a hunger burns –
in the shade of yawning bowers
bare arms slick with perspiration
molten limbs in low blue light
carve new skin and spread my lungs
on tender soil; salt the earth
idol built from nothing, will you
raze the sky and ease my slumber
while i am not loud you do not fade, i do not wonder –

i pray in fear.
if we were made of water would
the embers of the battle hiss
in quiet contemplation? would they let us breathe
or slip away in time for us to save ourselves
chasing and still chasing
all the things the gale stole
you slept as rain
clawed at the windows aching like i ached
to reach inside – you slept

if we were made of water maybe

we could find a home within the flood

but we are made of soot and bone so now, instead,

the bullet melts
in the barrel
let the metal drip in place of promised fire –
hot against my ribs then
gone, but never quite –

Words by Max Marks. Art by Sophia Howard.