Question & Answer 2 – Annie Harrison

Question 2

I hear your voice
in every word
and every
sunken stranger’s sky.

So why did the ink well
dry up? Your words
had always been
so precious

and so shrouded in
the weight of your
world. I want
more.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 2

I wanted to tattoo your words across my body
so I could never lose them
I wished I could wrap my bones
in the paper that carpeted your bedroom floor
and consume the half-written poems
that ached for the return of your pen

But the inky sea beat against your fractured walls
and pushed you back towards the safety of the city
you found clean water to wash away
the love I inscribed on your skin
as if it wasn’t you who fell first

I no longer need your words
I have my own.

– Annie Harrison

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Question & Answer 1 – Annie Harrison

Question 1

The ghosts of suicides kept us
awake polishing
our boots
and bleeding on our frostbitten
lips. We ran
gauntlets, chose to be beaten
until the vessels
on our asses
screamed.

When have you
been kept awake
under a sky
you swore
wasn’t yours?

We marched
naked as the paint
slapped our palms
and our knees buckled under
the weight
of naval pride. And

then we bled in the shower. And

then we shaved our faces raw.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 1

I spend every night under the sky of strangers.
There is no blanket of stars
to wrap around my lost
lonely body
instead
a suffocating haze
of fumes and artificial light
collecting under the glass jar
that stews this metropolis
I march to work
with the same resignation
on my face
in my heart
the taste of blood
on my teeth
from lips I’ve been biting
in my sleep
my skeleton
a puppet to be manipulated
by strings that are past my reach
eventually left limp
in the shadow of the wilting sun
I spend every day under the sky of strangers.

– Annie Harrison