Sex and Murder Magazine

By Michelle Tooker

Slope of her neck
naked in June’s light,
she is half-covered
in a juniper dress.

Blood is oil in my veins. Each day, I become more machine.

I want metal hands that match
the power of steel leviathans
tearing earth, tossing boulders
like a child chucking toys at an enemy.

I want her neck between my new hands.