After a Party

After we smoked angel dust you asked how I was feeling.
I wanted to say, but couldn’t, thinking through a death wish,
tangled up with you, someone who didn’t interest me should have been
in the soaking tub, but wasn’t and kept talking as you
ashes out of the louvered penthouse windows. There were roman
shades in the large solarium, moans from the MMF happening nearby
heavy liquidity, strange and lonely, was that you
whose face
I stroked the cheek of, leather and champagne,
my wanting like
a mist spread over this room of strangers,
satanic courtship dating
how lovely love only finds it’s truth in death
dust burning into the plastic daybreak, a plain morning
you wish to sleep alone
but send me selfies from bed, I like it cruel like this
how the sun rises just like yesterday.


I don’t want to die old
I don’t want to die young
Inadequate to describe the beauty
Of Venice’s skaters
I wish for your company tbh
Blondes blow me kisses
Everyone agreed
The Hitachi is brutal
Just to care for someone’s pleasure

Ben Fama is the author of Fantasy (UDP 2015). His next book Deathwish will be out in spring 2019. He is an editor at Wonder. @benfama