I can feel your skin
strip away from me—
I’ll be right back—
as you slip in to foreign bodies,
happier bodies, bodies
unburdened by empty pantries,
who forgot to put the lid down,
a suit of armor, brilliant chinks,
glittering creases, clouds parting,

and when you smile I hold you
like a falcon, hand outstretched,
terror drips,
a burning ember I toss
from hand to tongue,
until pop! goes the flash!
the armor, the ember, the glitter
all pool around your feet
and you kick them off
like a pair of unwanted panties. 

Alex Simand writes nonfiction and poetry. He is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch University Los Angeles and moonlights as an editor for both Lunch Ticket and Prague Revue. His work has appeared in such publications as Ash & Bones, Mud Season Revue, and Red Fez.