of lights. A string of bulbs—
which I write by—strung to altar
our bed I write on. Your noise
when you blow out the candle
is an airplane. Your click when you
turn off the desk lamp is a snap.
You are a machine & a magician.
When you sleep, a campfire burns
& I hear two hundred cracking
knuckles, windows, bulbs, necks.
There are fireworks you can’t even
see. This sleep of yours a disaster.
BJ Soloy’s Our Pornography and other disaster songs was selected by Ocean Vuong as the winner of the 2018 Slope Editions Book Prize. He also has a chapbook, Selected Letters, out with New Michigan Press. With poems in places like FIELD, Colorado Review, LIT, Forklift, Ohio, BOAAT, and Guernica, he lives and dies in Kansas City.