If I Could See All My Friends Tonight

— Peter Twal

Oh, dear
God, I’m wilting         don’t feel
alive       (again)—
        The number of times

I’ve thrown pennies         at the canary in my vacated
skull still somehow chirping         its ragged
rhythm       shivering, nude         to make it

go away
I can’t look it         square in the eye but owe it
my eyes

Every few seconds, the whole world crowds around
the drag of your cigarette & then
darkness inhales our dim

silhouettes         but when you touch me—         the blowing out of light
bulbs in my chest         The burning bouquet you rooted there

Read more from Issue No. 13 or share on Twitter.