Parker Matzinger
Waiting In Your Backyard
Jazzy DiMeglio
Grass uncut like the first dick I sucked
and a strong sun that drips
off of your cheekbones
and onto your tongue.
We feel like the marigolds
in your garden; worshiped
but always being watched
to make sure we’re drinking water,
to make sure we’re growing up.
We try to hide
how hard our hearts beat
behind the barberry bushes
while you chew on your chapped lips
while I wait for you to touch me.
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