Trinity Tibe is a Brooklyn-based poet and the winner of Crosswinds Poetry Journal’s Annual Contest. She is a co-founder of Say Yes Electric Collective and has work published in (IP), Potluck, and Bodega. Trinity has an MFA from The New School. Check out her visual poetry on Instagram @trinitytibe.
Short-Term Goals: His Tongue in My Mouth by the End of the World
Everything feels urgent this election season.
Ice melts faster
and I rush to swallow my gin
before it goes watery. Juniper, Jupiter,
the eroticized moon, glue
failing the diorama.
Nuclear ruins and all the wrong
assassinations loom just outside
my phone screen as I check
for a text. Fox News,
and me ppp— preoccupied with a rake
pppppppppppof blonde hair, the graze
pppppppppppof his wrist,
pppppppppppby a gravity of lip.
I’m a dumb rock unsure
of how much resistance will knock this blushing
orbit to full-on collision,
pppppbut the three-day-play-it-cool custom
pppppcan go fuck itself.
pppppIf end is imminent
pppppreputation is antiquated. How quaint to think
pppppmy reckless want is of any consequence
fingers ppppppppppppppppsieves of entropy
ppppppppppppppmotes of sense pass through my grasp
What catches is the anchor of his jaw
a denser body
The hard bright finale pppppppppis coming.
A Stranger Has Her Way
When she lifted me off the ground
my pulse dropped like low bass, becoming,
I became free-running pleasure.
Even as she held me I was wild
and delight in the West Village, an animal
more than roaming, an animal
splitting the streets in half
and in half again and in half
until nobody could fold a dollar
without shuddering at the ecstasy
of the crease. I can’t help mentioning
her bent knees, my body’s bounce
eliciting laughter like Oh, coming, impossible
to stop and why would you? My ass
a handle, her arm swanning into the space
between my split legs. Perfect, Stranger.
A lick of the neck like dark chute, missed
words in the ear, not all animals
respond to commands.