Published in The McNeese Review
“Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.” – Wilfred Owen, “Greater Love”
baby i bite at the wind like a bat
that’s head over heels
for its next meal
your jugular is in my sight
and i’m gnashing my canines at
the thought of what words what juice
might spill out of the apple
in your throat. yes that lump
must be hiding something
horrifying something that you cannot
tell me nor that you can
swallow yourself it is
purgatory that way and my fangs
are vibrating stalagmites
in an earthquake imagining
the mouthfeel of that median
yes it is scary to surrender
and even worse to not have a choice
make it easy on both of us and look
up at the stars and do your best
to distinguish them from gnats
because the vampiric truth
is that our bodies were full
of red before they were
full of blood but looking
out at the deep dark cold blue
it makes no difference
to either of us
Jaden Fong 