Poetry by Bunny Morris

Impossible Déjà Vu

for jules

                                    I suffer at your hands

and their absence. I think or dream often

of opening            my sternum, chronically

flushed like a little v of your skin, unzippered.

I touch your chin, with my paraphilia,

I’m sorry for that, I just have a kink

for the beams of light rooted in your scalp,

and for the sounds I might make rooted

in your backyard, your backyard is my kink

or being buried, and also everything.

really, I am just a dog, buzzing with delight

until the death of my vibe, until I realize

it is my own hand buried between my legs

and I can’t bring myself to beg you

to kill me in the ways I want, and I do.

Bunny/Teddy Morris is an MFA candidate in poetry at LSU. He is a trans/queer multimedia artist born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky. Its work revolves around disability, gender, and the erotic interactions between pain and pleasure. His recent work can be found in SELFFUCK Magazine, Lavender Lime Literary, and Anti-Heroin Chic. If you’re interested in reading about sex work and fish, check out his chapbook A Performance of My Ecstasy (Gap Riot Press, 2020). His other work can be found at https://bunnymorris.wixsite.com/poetry.

Instagram: @straw_buni
Twitter: @bunzmorris