Sex.
- Dec 27, 2019
- 1 min read
by Robin Sinclair
your sex is a distraction from dying, your sex is the silenced memory of a misdeed, your sex is ego, is conquest, is compulsive, your sex is a habit and habitat.
my sex is a crow at the edge of a harvested field, pecking at dots in dry dirt.
your sex is the film you first saw it in your sex is what they told you love is your sex is just another heavy pew
your sex is a thoughtless drive back through the town where you grew up your sex doesn’t have to look to find the way home, though you don’t know who lives there anymore.
your sex is causality.
my sex is a crow at the edge of a harvested field, pecking at dots in dry dirt.
Robin Sinclair is a queer, genderqueer writer of mixed heritage and mixed emotions, currently on the road, reading from their debut book of poetry, Letters To My Lover From Behind Asylum Walls (Cosmographia Books 2018). Robin’s work has been published in various magazines and journals, including Across the Margin, Shot Glass Journal, Red Bird Chapbooks, The Cerurove, Yes Poetry, and Pidgeonholes.
