Torey Akers

How to Recover Touch, An Anti-Infographic | Torey Akers

near the hot center of an american instant, like a diner, or a death
familiarity shrinks from flame as a physical condition of its singe
a receipt/love letter/un-remembered either-rendered-neither curls because of scorch
and in its stead, along some blackened backache

which is to say don’t type whereas
don’t under-weigh the story

he is tall and bald and holds you well
his hands do, rather (be specific)

your litmus needs cunning
a garden lattice built for crass, crass pressure

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++“What an expensive sentence”


inhabit the anterior option

ask after his partner and his fealty to Dan Savage and his web development job that you don’t even know how to start to know about

and when he fixes to lick the film away between your furthest vacuums
let dumb kane overgrow indifference
bake the man a magpie

because sometimes childhood leaves your body
and sometimes that’s with an imbecilic groan that’s only expected, really
and sometimes He is there and sometimes He is not
because you cannot eat the ones you love


you cannot absorb doll shadows stretched too long to love you

the thing about starts, though

recreations don’t begin.

hope only houses the memory of magic.


Torey Akers is a queer art writer living in Brooklyn. She’s had prose-poetry published in the Western Humanities Review, Fog Machine, Witchsong, Occulum, and The Hunger. You can follow her on Instagram: @gertnice_gertrude

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