Fox Frazier-Foley

ST. GEMINI BASKS IN THE LIGHT CAST BY ST. CADUCEUS AND HIS BRASS (NOR STONE, NOR EARTH, NOR BOUNDLESS SEA)

Horns that don't graze
the cape on their
way through the torso: my breath my yes

(Since the zipper of your jeans is in
search of a cure d'air—I hope she will be
sweet & keenless)

still with pleasure as you wound
    you around me        shed
your smell over me like    when the stainless

spiral screws through
cork so deep its widest
wound is wrought by exit

(nor should we return to the Potsdamer Platz,
where we stood before the remnant preserving
that place where the Wall was first broken through).

Reeds bending
to baskets: we dry
against each other

(nor did the loss of a man we loved draw us
to the home his ashes found. Only your
wire-caked voice, the impotence of laughter)

so tight    nothing    between us but     brilliant

chance    smearing    like

paint in a bone

(white room. Nor continue crossing the Atlantic and its cold green
thrashing, year after year. Nothing brings us
together—we don't need to be brought) —


I want you


in pieces


the size of


Babylon. (nor keeps us separate.)

Fox Frazier-Foley's work has recently appeared in Luna Luna, Jerry, Midway, and Paterson Literary Review. She is a creator and Managing Editor at the Los Angeles-based small press Ricochet Editions, an Editor-Curator at TheThe Infoxicated Corner of TheThe Poetry Blog, and a Provost's Fellow in the Literature & Creative Writing PhD program at University of Southern California.