Juliana Ward is a poet living in Northampton, MA. Her chapbook, Venus in November, is out now from b l u s h.

oh the pleasure of a return

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It’s not hard to imagine

you completely nude

and the vulgarity of horses

that I’d ride in front of you

red hairs whipping my back

you might puncture me

someday like the one photograph

I had of my 7th grade boyfriend

I stained his mouth with white-out pen

so he would know

what it was like

running down the mountain in heels

and I know what you’re thinking

that I’m the narcissist

and how unfortunate that angels

communicate with us

they tell me to tell you

that sex with me

wouldn’t be some blurry trophy

even when I do cum

I’m still a tease

a weeping willow

a girl with a beautiful emerald ring 

you say I would fit in so well in a painting or a porn

but my queen, a blue-eyed bee

has died

I scoop her dried and perfect wings

into a ring’s box

to show that I am so serious

like tulip emojis

I’m keeping all these images in mind

but we were like this even then

taking that growing hill

ruining the blossom

it would take a forest fire

it would take a Britney and Christina duet

to always love you

even when you are a crummy boy

and I am a married woman

swooning by the sea

inventing the wind

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