Thursday, August 23, 2012


If I don’t see you tonight I might die
on Old Street, on New Change
at the old dyke bar in Centrepoint
or knee-deep in the marshes
shivering in the lidos the ponds
high on the heath or banging my head
off the brutal concrete at Southbank.

I wanna be your Mayakovsky
Bolshevik beatbox coming  
drumming at your chest your
dick made of stars pulls me in a
strapon galaxy we rotate around
on the DL on the underground
at the stadia the palaces we see
across a city filled with tourists
whose cash lights up the night
in which we dream with the window
wide & flies in to suckle
at our blood sweet & salt from
the ferric cup from which
we sip & come day we sit
to scratch & seep from each bite

& like an open window
I’ve kept myself ajar tonight
& like a wound that keeps refilling
I got buckets of love for you so come over.


Stacey Tran said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Stacey Tran said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rubens Akira Kuana said...

Hello Sophie, I met your work trough jacket 2 and came
here. Curious and almost - almost - collapsed. I simply loved your poems. The funny thing is that just today I reread Mayakovsky by Frank O'Hara. So with the best (and only) intentions, I translated your poem - this poem - to portuguese. Yes, I forgot to mention I'm brazilian. A kiss & my best wishes, Rubens.