A Poem in Which I Mistake Your Mouth for a Machete

By Nix Carlson

And myself for a beating heart, 

An abhorrent sight,

All pulsing and oozing flesh.

What I am trying to say is that I am defenseless,

And I’m not sure if it’s by choice.

What I am trying to say is that you are beautiful,

Glinting in the sun, raised in defense

Of your own heart, beaten in the cage of your ribs,

Terrified of the tender thing before you.

What I am trying to say is that I am leaving

In twenty-nine days, thirteen hours, forty-five minutes, and 

Twenty-six,

Twenty-five,

Twenty-four,

Seconds.

And I cannot stop the clock

Even though I’d die to stay in this space where you can kill me with your words 

Instead of your silence.

Make it easy.

Slice my soft flesh, make it slow, make it sting.

Tell me that I never mattered,

That I’m tiresome,

And easy to exploit.

Tell me you never wanted me, not for a single blackout moment.

What I am trying to say is that I love you, and 

When you press your lips to my neck

I do not know if I feel a warm caress 

Or a cool blade

Against my throat.

But I know it’ll kill me either way.

By Nix Carlson