Published in Rogue Agent, Issue 43
Saints disagreed with her as she counted all of the men she tacked on her hips,
not needing a belt to hold herself up, to hold herself separate from her loves and her lusts.
She counted to ten and the saints said, ‘Keep counting,’
so she let the remaining numbers float up into the fog and find home in the clouds
where echoes of her hips could make rain.
View the live version in Rogue Agent here.