​​H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L

lauren gordon



This Was Ugly


Unsure which you runs through your hair as if your fingers
can steeple skin, like that’s some holiday for a palm.  It is not incredible 
or warm that sun sizzling the sea’s end, the bodies of young boys
deferred in locker rooms, dumb slung towels on hips.  You won’t stalk there, 
your fingers a still talent.  Sheer morning the cellular history scaffolding
is architect to the ground you glide.  Oh God, how gelid.  How golden.
You keep a bag packed, trunked, I know the escape plan.  No book
spears words that come close to this - this is not romantic, no
body so soft it might stay.  I don’t know you as a man, just a body
a boy, listening at the door.  Your lung’s chambers like a roof over our heads
because I am not enough, never enough.  Where is home
under the mortgage, the debt of a face crumpling when you say
I am my mother, father, brother, you say, face hot, I get the baby
so think less on that.  Let that sound collide with your gut, the constant
ticking, your damp soul a wash out, and this was ugly, but it was real.






Lauren Gordon is the author of four chapbooks: Keen with Horse Less Press, Meaningful Fingers with Finishing Line Press, Fiddle is Flood with Blood Pudding Press and the forthcoming Generalizations about Spines with Yellow Flag Press. She is also a Contributing Editor to Radius Lit