“Sappho: a thin flame runs under/ my skin…/ and I turn paler than/ dry grass./ At such times / death isn’t far from me – She kissed her at the windowsill over a shared cigarette two hours after the street outside met the dancer’s body and oh! that silky blue-eyed suck that mind-fuck she knew her shit after three bottles of red undifferentiated orality she was reading Irigaray – You are such a – when our lips speak together – fucking deep Lez. she bites her neck “I’m going to deepthroat your slut tongue” – capital L.”

From “Love Letters” by Anna Westbrook