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Camp | Eliana Gray


By the seventh hour the back of my shoulder was beginning to break
crouching and heaving
my hand and your forehead
over the cooler I lifted your necklace out of
before it filled with the hot bile
I hoped wasn’t blood
thick and yellow
your tears viscous down my throat
your small dark body
wet between my legs
dripping out of my arms
onto the plastic floor of the tent
that was becoming just as small and dark
when you poured in

I had nothing to give you but kisses
long and insistent at the base of your neck
we pressed into you
with my hands and her hands and his hands
crowding out shadow
squeezing a sponge
making your stomach my stomach and clean

It had to get violent
this precious care
I rubbed hard against your chest
bone cracking bone
my knuckles clicking off the mounds of your ribs
where I knew it would hurt
and your head still dropped

I slapped your face
it took four of us to be your limbs and vital organs
it was getting light as I let you go
stayed awake to watch your breathing
tiny lungs and fragile air.

About Eliana Gray

Eliana Gray is from New Zealand. She has a twitter she didn't make and never posts on. Her friend Jon is maintaining her internet presence. Sometimes she thinks about blogging.

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