Every man I’ve loved will be dead before my burial. Teeth. Aquarius men never add up to what they had always promised me: days sitting in the sun, baths in white water, sun. Gangrene. Turn me red. Teething. Gumming on stale crackers. 19th century psychology would love me more than men. Turning red like my lungs after a menthol. Birdless. My love is a seraph. When I die, I have written that each of my teeth will be removed and left in the Mississippi river. It is my gift to the world. My true love will be a libra sun, aquarius moon. I will fly around the throne of God. I will be selfish and he will be vindictive. Mirrored and distorted slightly, just like his voice on speaker phone. My teeth in the Mississippi will be picked up by Aquinas and made into little seraphim. I have the clearest visions.
Blake Millwood is a poet, student, artist, and home cook from Louisville, KY, studying the Written Arts at Bard College. They recently received a scholarship from the Hudson Valley Writers Center and have taken up the hobby of crocheting and going on morning walks.