CALAMITY
LUXURY FUCKS
I want to burn them all my ex lovers a pyre to the strength they gave
me who's had the last laugh as I strut down Myrtle Avenue side by side
no hands held when you're not mine and I couldn't be yours if I tried
we could run the world with our brains but here the world runs into us
on our walk as summer ends the small world I roll my eyes you make jokes
and we've seen we're seen I'm seeing not shrinking into shadows again
this time last year when I was all dark and lean and inhuman you know
too well it still hangs on my ankles rattling ball and chain but I drag it
feel human whole again connect to others and love insofar as it exists
​
In the summertime we get neon sunsets in Brooklyn and where did it go
this summer we were blurs had lovers saw the world like you're supposed to
maybe coming into bloom all tulips crawling up from frozen bulbs in the dead
earth loved them all and then some but fall is a birth and you've forced no
choices so I'm round and whole this time around feeling open like I could grow
something finally and our Catholic guilt swings hand in hand like matched
heartbeat drumlines synchronized swimming to all the ways we could have been
better but to worry over you is a treat
Sloane Eliot Mariem is a Florida-raised, Brooklyn-based poet exploring trauma, recovery, and the formation of new relationships in the wake of domestic violence. Her work has appeared in Vending Machine Press and Electric Cereal and she has read in NYC as part of the Vapors reading series.