My best friend
is a talking drum.
I thump her lightly
with my thumb.
Drum, do you love me?
Drum, with your hair to the floor,
did you hear the fireworks last night?
You would have loved them. Your raspy cackle
is just what my fireplace needs.
Drum keeps me company
in remote places.
Drum calls to drum.
She’s dating a clarinet. She’s dating
Reedy fellow. All in black a turntable
with silver buttons. a flute
an 808
She’s always been unlucky in love.
Nobody wants a cracked drum.
She buzzes and she hums They finger her crack
and that’s just at first. test its seams, and leave.
Everyone’s afraid: What if (She laughs and cries
I play with her and she gets worse? into her sleeve)
Did you hear the thunder last night, drum?
It’s nice to know,
that there’s a bigger drum out there . . .
My best friend
is a talking drum.
I thump her lightly
with my thumb.
Drum, do you love me?
Drum, with your hair to the floor,
did you hear the fireworks last night?
You would have loved them. Your raspy cackle
is just what my fireplace needs.
Drum keeps me company in remote places.
Drum calls to drum.
She’s dating a clarinet. She’s dating
Reedy fellow. All in black a turntable
with silver buttons. a flute
an 808
She’s always been unlucky in love.
Nobody wants a cracked drum.
She buzzes and she hums They finger her crack
and that’s just at first. test its seams, and leave.
Everyone’s afraid: What if (She laughs and cries into her sleeve)
I play with her and she gets worse?
Did you hear the thunder last night, drum?
It’s nice to know,
that there’s a bigger drum out there . . .
Cool spring day
mirrors autumn
my dad looked ill
as he jogged up the hill
He fell and vanished.
Someone saw. But they won’t tell.
The birds cry out like fax machines.
I’ve flickered my way
through Erie, PA
but here, with you
I cry till nothing’s
left. You ask—
how far, the most distant star?
Cool spring day
mirrors autumn
my dad looked ill
as he jogged up the hill
He fell and vanished.
Someone saw. But they won’t tell.
The birds cry out like fax machines.
I’ve flickered my way
through Erie, PA
but here, with you
I cry till nothing’s
left. You ask—
how far, the most distant star?
You give me little bits of news:
Alex’s wife cleaned all the teacups,
McConnell’s weighing a national ban;
tossed celery and onion, how the cat
caught her jaw in her collar
and ran around at 2 am,
hacking and drooling.
I want to feel
how soft you are,
smell the sweat
on the back of your neck
squeeze you, rub your butt,
kiss your cheek,
palpate your earlobe.
I can’t wait
to watch Llamageddon
while you study medicine.
You give me little bits of news:
Alex’s wife cleaned all the teacups,
McConnell’s weighing a national ban;
tossed celery and onion, how the cat
caught her jaw in her collar
and ran around at 2 am,
hacking and drooling.
I want to feel
how soft you are,
smell the sweat
on the back of your neck
squeeze you, rub your butt,
kiss your cheek,
palpate your earlobe.
I can’t wait
to watch Llamageddon
while you study medicine.
She found me out side the door, rolling
drunk I was
myself I told her
she who I was
to become
She found me out
side the door, rolling
drunk I was
myself I told her
she who I was
to become
For Mary
Let’s pull and lay
the sheet.
Let’s lie here in
the sun,
grasses bunching
underneath
and kiss each other’s
lips.
Your breath is hot, your body soft
& warm
in linen.
I’ll kiss your thighs
inside
and giggle
Let’s stretch
like lazy lionesses
in the sun
far from the pride
For Mary
Let’s pull and lay
the sheet.
Let’s lie here in
the sun,
grasses bunching
underneath
and kiss each other’s
lips.
Your breath is hot, your body soft
& warm
in linen.
I’ll kiss your thighs
inside
and giggle
Let’s stretch
like lazy lionesses
in the sun
far from the pride
Lydia Host is a transgender writer based in Philadelphia. Her work has appeared in The RavensPerch Magazine, The Woven Tale Press, Oyster River Pages, OyeDrum Magazine, and others. Most of her published work can be found at her website, www.lydiasthost.com, and via her Instagram handle, @lydiahost1.
