Alien by Dane Lyn


lovers claw

at each other’s skin

fingers of sweat transform into

bloody tributaries

pull pleasure from the mouth of pain

harsh and angular grit

to bury brutal ravenous delicious agony

whispers from outside




like I’m a kid listening in from across the room

catching an idea,

a faintness reflection of intended meaning

starting gunshot reverberations

launching my brain into the ether

measuring my words is pointless

my thoughts being so sticky

no feasibility holding them against a yard stick

they won’t calm still

Russian dolls of vortices nested into each other

kitten-tangled complexity

knots tied in knots tied with ribbon bows

lost terminal

I thought you died already

Or is it my turn?


Dane Lyn (they/them) is a queer, educator, poet, and glitter enthusiast with an MFA from Lindenwood University. Find them in Southern California with their partner, advocating for disabled rights, constructing blanket forts, caring for their menagerie of teens, snakes, lizards, dogs, rabbits, and cats, and ridding their shoes of beach sand. Dane’s work has been or will be featured in Gnashing Teeth and Nymph. They’re on Twitter and Instagram at @punkhippypoet .

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