When I don’t sing the body electric

I sing it blue
I sing it bulge
I toss the bones
in the bathtub & shush
I sing the scrub
the cleanse the here
we go again I sing the drip
the hiccup of corruption
I leave the flesh
at the door & drop
into cobweb dreams
I cherry I click I whisper
family histories I seduce
it to sleep with a lottery
I wink the body
a promise—next time
no more screaming spills
no more shards of shiny laughs
nothing but the neon hymn
it’s been asking for.

TYPHOON WARNING

The world is ending in a whimper
as promised, the officials in Vietnam
announced today. So we came home,
bought supplies: two bottles of wine
and bread. Even we were surprised
by how little we needed to pass
the hours of the last day, like any
day really. We took a bath. We had sex.
We argued about which movies were
good and which were only pretending
to be. His opinions in my ear
were tar or honey but what does it matter—
the difference between drowning and swimming
is slight, a matter of hope and direction. It was the end
so we agreed to disagree, ate our share, moved
the cactus on the balcony inside. So far, it seems
like a breeze, but there is water coming
through the window and pooling on the floor.

wrong in my own way

I don’t type with 10 fingers but I get by
doing it wrong in my own way / what if
I do everything a little wrong / biting
my tongue / my face askew
in hellos and orgasms morbidly
not quite human, a parody parade
in my eyes where a soul glint
should be / swallowing air
with gulps of beer, my stomach
swollen with moths eating holes
fluttering in wait for light / was I born
at the wrong hour, had I waited
in the crooning cave of her
for too long / she tells the story
that I was the only 1 of 8 to stand
my ground, forcing a cut across
her belly, that scar a smile, they lifted
me up instead of pulling me out

Isabelle Correa is from Washington and lives and teaches in Vietnam. Her work has appeared in Third Point Press and Trampset and is forthcoming in Pank. You can find her on Twitter @IsabelleJCorrea. She lives for a good chat.

© 2020