“I love Utah,” he announces childishly.
It’s cloudy – the sun is pasting
Deep blue shadows on distant cliffs
Like bleary Fruit Rollup tongue tattoos.
Red cliffs, like tongues,
Or cracked and creviced lips
The lips that he uses to kiss me
First thing in the morning.
He changes lanes without signaling,
Comments again on the views
As though I can’t measure beauty
With my own open eyes.
“I love Utah.” I think about
The first three syllables
And take my birth control with
Gas station coffee.
Utah
By Hannah Van Zee
GirlSense and NonSense