Sex Scene | Kelsi Villarreal

While the show swells forward through its scenes—
the windfall
of sex, and the sudden twist
ending where all good fortune
is reversed—

she is sprawled on the futon
touching herself.

Only certain impulses
can push other ones away.
She’s just daydreaming, the way
anxiety daydreams about control,
about not locking doors,
about giving no power over
to lovers, or family, or loss.

But there is some relief to giving it up.

On the computer screen Sookie, shattered
by her grandmother’s murder
visits the grave of her disappeared lover, a vampire.
More torn up there—
all she wants is touch, and her
grandmother didn’t touch her
like that.The weight
of her loss is not equal
to the loss of his body—

Then, as abruptly as changing the channel,
her lover punches
his hand out of the dirt, heaves
himself up braced against her legs.
He’s coming back to life, dirt
in his nose, snorting, dirt covering
his body that pulls her down
to the dirt. Who knew
it could be so erotic?
She’s always had trouble
distinguishing pleasure
from an interruption
in grief; pleasure, the heat
down at the source,
the one thing that seems
unkillable.

—–

Kelsi Villarreal is a 25 year old poet who is currently in graduate school at Oregon State University. She lives with two cats, Gretel and Benedick, who are both infinitely better than human room mates. She tweets at @kelsinite.

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Vagabond City Literary Journal

Founded in 2013, we are a literary journal dedicated to publishing outsider literature. We publish art, poetry, and creative nonfiction from marginalized creators.

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