[Is she lighter for lovers?]

when I gave her my gift

she gave it right back

put it in me

asked rhetorically

how hard?

nothing was fixed

my form trembled

with pleasure at the breaking

laws of physics

for if I could be fucked

(and so vigorously!)

by my own ardor

controlled by another

perhaps I am being

teleported to heaven

perhaps gravity is not privy

to this place

where pleasures separate

perhaps

anything goes

off of me and into me

it was only when I realized

this organ had to have an owner

the spell was broken

but I can still feel

my gift inside of me

and I didn’t put it there

I was a girlfriend

watching a girlfriend

kiss a girlfriend

if you were there

you would have written about it

because you weren’t there

you want me to say it meant nothing

but it was thick and sweet

and it endures inside me

I’ve plenty of time to savor

the memory as it melts

I don’t have to go to work for a week

[Don’t you know that yet?]

if you are unaware of your own beauty

you may be susceptible to lovers and looters alike

or even having a pop song written about you

you may not know your own gender

or the language that your eyes speak

and you may not need to

to do the important things

like feeling wonderful

looking like ice cream in the summertime

melty and ready

for a dextrous tongue

you know you are unaware of your own beauty

if your lover is constantly reminding you

checking in to make sure

you’re both on the same page

about how gorgeous you are

how long will it take to know this

once and for all

and why would you want to

when beauty’s always better discovered anew?

[Wasn’t it miraculous?]

in a pleasure tunnel

handling that pink lack

she makes herself a story

it goes this is what’s missing

whatever this hollow thing is

she’s holding and losing

like any sad hedonist

she spoils the fun too late

after it’s already been had

already gotten away with

she’s in love with

quartz countertops

bemused at the fortune

behind this ‘chance’ encounter

angry at the petty treasures

seeming better and better

at replacing desire

until you touch them

being nice in a nice house

that seems pretty basic

mood set to circumstance

following the ambiance

am I my house’s pet?

master requires attention

I’m provided for

disinterestedly

but this shabby so-and-so

is my everything

my house says isn’t that nice?

then think about what you’ve done

I’m not a liar

I love a pretty window

I just think it’s only special

if everyone has one

Author's Note: "These poems are from a series in which I wrote a poem each day in response to one of the 72 questions in Rilke's Duino Elegies."

Violet Spurlock is the author of Alloyed Bliss (Eyelet, 2021) and VS VS VS (GaussPDF, 2021).