Ryan Skaryd

your breath like lavender,
like menthol without cigarettes

because gin is enough for you now

so with my shadow bent into yours,
I remember the taste of my ex-lover’s last name
my fingerprints search your ribs,
bones like windchimes and your neck

still stained from Friday night

Saturday morning colored with high-pulp OJ

and a twenty creased on the kitchen counter

the fragile walls alive and
the garage door lifting

one more I say and I say it again


Ryan SkyardRyan Skaryd holds an MFA from the University of Central Florida in Orlando, where he currently teaches, writes, and dances. His work has appeared in After the Pause, The DUM DUM Zine, Blue River Review, and elsewhere.