dear L by Ry Dunn

dear L,

Somewhere in between the lines the void
of space between a thought or maybe this
is a feeling now? I brace myself,
I think about you. I feel the heaviness
and the lack of your touch.
Charles says to remain open to possibility
Karen Barrard refers to this
in her essay on touching
“Ontological indeterminacy, a radical
openness, an infinity of possibilities,
is at the core of mattering…
Matter is never a settled matter.
It is always already radically open”.
Charles said that in reply to
when I told him about what happened,
to you and, what happened between us.
how it didn’t matter that/when/if you
told me because it didn’t pertain to
me or us, and that I should remain
open to the possibility of receiving
or not receiving that which you’d
like to share.
I want to be open to you
I feel in response to you a way
into feeling heavy with all the
sad and pilling stitches
of our arrangement.
i wait now to not feel this constant. to
withdraw from consistency.
we are biding our time
in a field of openness to
new possibilities,
or emptiness.
sex is always the void
that can either be filled
or remain a mystery
your cock felt so at home
inside me and after I came
in you I replayed that
moment in my mind
for a few days
(or maybe weeks)
to appease the lonely,
the horny tides that built
sand dunes out of my longing.
now you’re absence fills the
streets with the scent of a
tarnished heart – my scales
lift up in a seat of defense,
unfurl my aching tendency to
shuffle through memory
of yet another scene of
your hand scruffing my
cheek, of my hand grasping
your cock, to your lips
pressing out the words
“do you want this dick?
do you want this cock
in your hole?”
i took a few steps outside it
was sunny and the brightness
lapsed my memory of a time before
the present, what happened last night
did we, you know, *puts finger in & out
of other finger in the shape of a circle*
did we? now that the past is only
a replica, no doubt an hallucination
can we escape together to an alter
somewhere beyond the cable fields?
trembling around my knees so weak.
walking now this summer like
missing out on all the fun,
missing out on all the sun.
i desire the moon and the phallus
now, her earthly trembling member
inside my mossy temple.

love always,

Ry Dunn

Ry is a poet, artist, and sex worker living in Brooklyn. His interests include the lived experiences of urban & rural queers in the aftermath of the AIDs epidemic, botany // ethnobotany, militant leftists, and synesthesia, among many others.