eros

by Kaydance Rice


frito crumbs are covering the couch
cushions. we’re sucking on jolly

ranchers. we’re pulling our
teeth out, one by one by one.

it’s two am and we’ve decided
we might be God. we’ve decided

we might be a bit too high for this.
we were covered in fun dip, chalky

and too sweet. you’re chewing
on a three year old lollipop. you’re

telling me we’ve been made divine.
you’re being eaten alive by moths

or asking if I could just shut up
for a second. fine. don’t tell me

about sugar glaze and chocolate
boxes. the stained floors. the snickers

bars. don’t tell me you think this
counts as love. you’re still eating

candy corn from last halloween. breathe
with me. it’s like watching a trainwreck

and eating the dirt. eating the artery. I won’t
tell you what's next. hold your breath

a bit longer instead. tell me you’re still
staying the night. tell me to shut

the fuck up again and i will. tell me
we tasted like maraschino cherries,

almost sour but so tooth rottingly sweet.


Kaydance Rice is a writer from Grand Rapids, Michigan. She has been recognized by the Poetry Society of America, Michigan State University, Albion College, the Alliance of Young Artists and Writers, among others. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in the Taco Bell Quarterly, YoungArts Anthology, Up the Staircase Quarterly, voicemail poems, Full Mood Magazine, and elsewhere. In her free time, Kaydance enjoys playing the viola, rambling about existentialism, and spending time with her plants.