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  • Evan Benedict

Sheets of Ink


how can i ink you down

when there’s no word

for “eyes of wildflower and vine?”

for the way our bodies meet

at the hips, trench your fingernails

into the skin of my back

leave red marks like lines of memory,

like yarn tracings of a paranoid corkboard conspiracy,

like faded sunburn pressed white against your palms?

bow your spine, dust my neck

with nebula lips, breath passes

ear like a rumor or

a secret

told by tripping tongue

over shoulder, collarbone,

stomach, hip, thighs

pushing upward, pushing toward

rough kiss until we sweat with it

like old ships, salt-soaked and leaking,

boards bent to bursting against one another

warped by salt-air and time, and crooked like knees

around hips, held together not by nail or screw,

but the shape made at their joining.


Evan Benedict is a high school English teacher at Norfolk Collegiate School in Norfolk, VA. He writes poetry in his spare time, which he has because he neglects other things. His poetry has been displayed by the City of Norfolk, and featured in Flying South, Silver Rose Magazine, SPECTRApoets, Sunspot Literary Journal, and Wild Roof Journal.

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