Jan 18, 2026

BELL GIRL

Is obsessed with the stable boy, you see, the one
Swinging a sledgehammer between his legs, so
Tensioned to dangle over your ledge;
Below, some flattened flesh poor of water and sinew.

She dreams of his rich, thick purse,
That drawstring of so many millions of tiny fish;
To enter through her own thorn and swim
Amongst such high exploding heaven!

A whimper noodles gloved to the sun and
Propels every drenched cell in her greenery to
Gently raise her face in desire to greet him racing
Centuried pace into one hot, drooled rip—

All to be met with a dung clung hoof, her
Crumpled heart beating slow till still around what is left of her root,
Dust speckled and muscle stretched valiant he drifts

In a trot like a worm molding her fading vision— oh halt, Misery!—
Her stoned heart raves with sweetness yet

PENALIZED MERCY

Sarah Aiko

Mar 06, 2024

She is nestled in the roots above me, skittering about. It is hard to describe the terror she wafts off of her flesh pulped body, her limbs the color of disease, a molted web of dangling red and purple injury. Her eyes hard as two black plates slicked viscous with pearly soap and her smile wide and tearing, I feel her invasion. Some indifferent glare of ironed light seeps darkness into my mouth. Through my very teeth she lets out a rasp and my cunt responds with its own rattle. I fear of what will leave me, of the cellular leech, of her noisome silence that stalks me.

The quality of my time has become thickened, gelatinous; it ropes itself around my life and, like a cow squeezed in its final chute, the fluttering of my heart slows to a pleasurable thrum. And somehow, as mineral turned oil, she arrived in the same time and place as this thickness. I squint to think, why has she come for me now? Why here? What is that thud of her body obliterating mine, her unbiased smile collecting my skin as if disparate shards of a seashell?

I know, she watches me. In turn, I watch winter ebb into spring. I wonder if I invited her in. I envy the security of the fresh asphalt being flattened outside my window. I could’ve sworn that I promised to not let any women in my house. But this house is not my home, and I am stunned when, unsummoned, mercy barges into my mind— my whole spirit poisoned—

Penalized, mercy now holds a very specific shape. A medium weave white cloth bundled and gathered by a thread, and underneath, two dice pierced and hung, glittering, sitting in a shallow mirror of tinned water. I am told this is for her. But how can I bear to burn her, to blister and bubble her unyielding eyes with smoke, to curl her gash singed, this terror that immolates and expounds my second still beating heart?

IN WAVE

mars cazimi

Sarah Aiko

Nov 19, 2023

It dawns on, tinged orange shaped like cranberry, to be me is to be here with you. I worry that I’ve been only fumbling. Smacking my lips together little sewn tambourine. Your skin stretched stranded, my palm upturned and tattooed. Now clenched. Breathed a swoon sigh, like a soft click, like velvet that never dies, settling downy in the blood gulch. Plunge, twist, draw, me, me, me out the body of your enemies. Pounded back in. My horse never dies. I seem to choose to forget about the cookies on the rack. I am, on surface level, unsure. Crust below. Mouthfuls of fur, you stick to my throat and my stomach grumbles. You respond in turn, something like ______. My laughter a warm applause, belly as tight as a drum. Glow on, gully, gut me like a pig

cazimi

Sarah Aiko

Aug 13, 2023

I should like to be bold

sopping wet

greased with blood

I slip out of my own grasp gushing forth from the dime-sized hole drilled straight through my thumb and out the nail—
a small holy spring for you, my Giant— so you may wet the very tip of your tongue,
glittering, it steams, that last breath from the first bite of a hot madeline; obsessed, I consume its last breath

the masculine urge is burrowed deep in the pit of my body, burred spur spun sharp and I, worm or oyster, clamped up around that spiked wheel— the relief, do you understand?,

of being seared shut— the juice brims—

I stare lidless

the sky blinks for me

Arcturus, he gilds my blood with metal, the same blood that pins me to the wall drunk
on fish and midnight sun

sight widening, panting I touch the thought like a—

the midnight sun slips open my mitochondria (body

humming underneath
body) (lust in space)

midnight sun! that bandaged wound. pulsating. deep oil immortal, seeps when pressed, rising
to wave down the fingers

and when the passion falls flat, tunneled syrup, my reluctant mouth and faltering heart; you come on, each new layer of flesh snapping open like a cut ribbon flung

you've taken my skin as its single organ (peeled up and then put down again) but it's never quite the same again, am I?

something big is gonna happen over my dead body

I PICK UP THE PHONE BUT DO NOT KNOW WHO I AM SPEAKING WITH

FLESH VIGNETTES

Sarah Aiko

Jun 05, 2023

There’s a spot between my eyes where you place the pick and twist, punching an eyelet, plaster dust coated in skin; beyond, a moan from the very unseeable end, I can feel the tunnel ribbed, and, like tongue finding its rotten root sharp, somehow, the blood core that softens it all— deep in my mouth blue washed window to read out of— and I’m told we’re only a third way there

Fuel celled shaky wolf stuttering in the tube, I’ve reached into his eyes before, I’ve yanked on some color, I’ve chewed and chewed his tripe before, I’ve suckled the milk straight from that single organ, I’ve slit his tender, heaving, buttery belly, and, with wind all around me, I’ve crawled deep into his slit, rooted around for the deepest warmth, his groans growing faint, my stickiest breath held, at last, that true freedom of this; simmered down to mitochondria splitting apart behind his ribs

I wish to never awaken, this constant dusk, sour sweet memory puckering the iron ore hunk of heart, pickling, then, petrified, the sky above greying folds, as if, to mark the Giant’s descent— and yet, the air smells different

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DREAM ERRATA

BELL GIRL

PENALIZED MERCY

IN WAVE

mars cazimi

cazimi

I PICK UP THE PHONE BUT DO NOT KNOW WHO I AM SPEAKING WITH

FLESH VIGNETTES