Self-Indulgent Sext During Wildfire
Scout Katherine Turkel
I lost my fur in the fire earlier this year
              just outside the city with yellow high
way road signs. You always drive when

we are together. The scythe near your hip for
              the quick puncture of tires. The hiss. Cotton
mouth in the grass tells me I am gay & sad

says I'm tasteless. Says pit vipers love without fur.
              In the fire, the river all but evaporated. In the fire, I
measure you gone for good. Tendons stretch

across the bank for the last time. I walk across
              them, politely. Thank you for your Achilles.
The shifting quiver slung, slanged.
Originally from Los Angeles, Scout Katherine Turkel is a writer studying at the University of California, Berkeley where she currently serves as an Editor in Chief of the Berkeley Poetry Review. Her work can be found in Two Peach Journal and Tunnel Magazine.

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