On Howard Street

We’re laying on quilted fabric in a dusty room

Heads crowned with dander and a cluster headache

Last night was loud, sweaty, and wet with booze

Purple splotches crawl like ants before my eyes

You are stronger than I am, and I am limp

There’s a buzzing on my lips that’s not quite no

Your fingers say yes louder than my reluctance

They are rough and dry and not my lover’s

I lay still and wait for you to finish



Remi Recchia is an MFA candidate in Poetry at Bowling Green State University, where he serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for the Mid-American Review and teaches first-year writing. His work has appeared in or will soon appear in Pittsburgh Poetry ReviewFront PorchGravelGlass: A Journal of PoetryAnti-Heroin Chic, and Haverthorn Press, among others. 

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