words by dominic riccitello

i danced with vials
a symphony choir
with hands in my pockets
hairs on end
with men
who could bend

there i stood
in my entirety
with legs above
beyond
anything
you could dream of

and it wasn’t sex
and it wasn’t lust
but it was that feeling
of ice
which slips down your neck
caresses your lungs
when you fall in love