If You Were an Ear of Corn
by Thomas Patrick Levy
I don't want to break you in half but you are an ear of corn. In the yard, after I've pulled through the sheets of your skin, the neighbors will see us and wonder if the fire is pleasant as it seems. There is water on the stove. You've felt sweat and heat, summertime. I watched you displace water so sexily I involuntarily touched your wet shoulder. I was so hungry. I couldn't stop. Your slender chin, the bulge of your belly. When you are naked I might slide over your small bumps with my tongue. I'll save your salty pains. Cherish them. These are the things I cannot handle. These are the things that I can only do in the darkness.
Thomas Patrick Levy's work has appeared in various journals and publications including Pear Noir!, the New York Quarterly, PANK, and Kill Author. More information is available online at thomaspatricklevy.com.