Fluid | Sarah Pinkerton

I am valued only in triptych, in tandem with someone
and the services I can provide.
Rolling out like the underfoot mat
I so often am, belly up or arse in the air,
I aim to be agreeable and end up flat on my back,
fucked like a newlywed. Not enjoying it,


pins-and-needles numb throughout,
I am painless and a nameless victim of
the small deaths we endlessly subject ourselves to.
Unless I am alone in that game, too,
scrabbling for small ways of belonging
when I really own none. Puns run throughout
all I do and I’m enough glad to own them,
wry grin like a friendly invitation
to love-love-love me.
Turn me down like a coverlet,
fold me up til I cop to it, and own me.

—–

Sarah Pinkerton is a 26-year-old queer feminist woman living in Chicago; she’s studying to be a clinical psychologist and currently has her M.A.  She writes to stay sane enough, and she admires Dorothy Parker from way, way afar.

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.