Secret
He is grounded in plywood,
a man of words cold as water.
He doesn’t like it
when someone rocks the boat.
Imagine if he met me,
born with the ocean in hand:
I’d reach in his pocket, find the fetish
for tsunami backed women
with strong heads.
Roaring Stream
A mountain of pelvis
is covered with skin
That fills a milky stream —
I love that stream.
I love this man
like tectonic plates
love to roar.
His chest is soft,
malleable dirt
in my totalitarian
hands.
I claim this land.
I claim this man
like natural disaster
claims tributary
About Anastasia Jill
Anastasia Jill is a queer writer living in the South. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Small Fiction Anthology and has been featured with Poets.org, Lunch Ticket, FIVE:2:ONE, apt, Anomaly Literary Journal, 2River, Gertrude Press, Minola Review, and more.