Midnight at the Bachelor Mansion

Chicken for dinner every night. Rosy and tan, it swells in
our stomachs and makes us feel bloated, with confidence.
It is important to be confident. It is important to know
your heart. The downy white hair on our arms grows thick
and long. Mackenzie bites me with her two front teeth and
I cry until our guy comes down on the moon, his back curved
lazily into a crescent. Romance is difficult, but romance
is nice. The shoulder of romance peeks out of the water
when it washes ashore in the night. There is the hum of
chlorine in my eyes and green on the back of my earrings. 
I eat the muddled heart of the chicken and feel myself inching 
towards a negative feeling. I make a little joke in my mind— 
I am the twin of the plush flower petal, nervous and veined 
on the inside. I tell my joke aloud and am met with choppy 
edited silence. Jesus Christ. We pluck compulsively at our 
whiskers. Romance is pretty, romance is sleepy, romance 
has pink in all of its eyes. Rumor says our guy is coming 
back again tonight. I feel my tongue curled up like something 
shy around a spool. Unroll it lengthwise in another mouth, 
and it will leave a series of temporary tattoos. Outside, 
the walls blink rapidly and we roll like hedgehogs
through the courtyard. It is important to let yourself fall.
It is important to mark where my skin begins with the cold
decision of tile. I am splayed out like a fantasy, all my edges
curled at the sky. Like a thousand answers to a question, 
the roof thunders down with rice. There is a carving knife
taped to the sundial. Mackenzie scuttles across my shoes.
The transformation now—God help me. I’m starting to fall 
in love with you.

Mireille Farjo