by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 7, 2023
Sober You are now seventeen months sober, three months Before that, two hundred and thirty five, And the sobriety suits you well, like a sacramental gown pressed white as your ass, a cross loose upon your neck, O how they hated you for...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 7, 2023
How my longing longs for you? A creature which stirs only in the depths of the night I love you That was my most wicked crime You are not a bad man Barely a man at that Except I would do most anything for you and you know that You will take until there is...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 7, 2023
A tiny ceramic elephant sits on the shelf of my college-issued “wooden” desk. The hole in the elephant’s back— for prickly incense sticks and wilted wildflower stems seems larger now. Its elephant legs stick together because, of course, it is too small to have its...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 7, 2023
The Eavesdropper A lighthouse stands alone in the distance, a dark stone skeleton seeped in powdered salt. Weathered, blackened bars line its beacon— burning from the lamp revolving behind them, burning like the bars of a jail cell, burning like bones that...
by Lunchbox Editor | Dec 7, 2023
My eyes dart about an unfamiliar room. The silk sheets, the ornate bookcases, the intricate detailing on the chiffonier. I recall where I am. The Hamptons. I venture out into the mansion. An unfamiliar body adorns the tasteful, off-white couch, placed precisely as if...
