Em Judkins

you are going

down on your beloved,

& you stop for a stag

beetle; or, you quit tugging her

waistband with bared teeth for what eli

is declaring best bug

of the summer —

you slide each other’s

clothes on, buttons pushed

side to side,

pulling her off the mattress

with crinkled eyes &

wrinkled shirts in the sweaty dorm

you’re squatting in

& the wallpaper is peeling

in heat (but so are you, sunburnt

& hot to your core)

& you are decomposing

but you’re above ground

& skipping through campus at twilight,

weak in the knees with want

trying not to bend in half on the track

for her, the taste of dining hall sorbet

& your beloved sour on your tongue

& yes, of course, the beetle

is massive — look

at its wings!! — those

formidable pinchers!! —

c’mon — let’s carry it

home in our good

mugs to show

eli — let’s find soft

cherries so it may feast —

it looks hungry.