no, I don’t want children / I heave, pushing my voice / between split lips / a moment passes. the air is still, a vacuum of silence / but why? his eyes widen, judgment bruising his face

TELL ME ABOUT THE CHILDREN BY LEE BRODA

34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 78

he asks—

his question presses into my neck, tight,

a headlock, and he’s got

my back against the corne…