Pussy grabs back. Pussy grabs and grabs. Pussy can’t reach. Pussy comes up empty. Open air. Pussy grabs, grasps, gasps at open air. Empty. Pussy lives in the TV, down the street from Joel Olsteen. Church of Electric Untouchables. There, Pussy learns to pray. Pussy’s prayers are spells cast in static. Pussy grabs at static. Empty. Open. Pussy thinks empty, open, touchable. Pussy tries grabbing. Pussy learns of exceptions. Phosphor dots live in the TV, forming shapes and suits and faces. Church of Electric Untouchables. Pussy grabs, touches nothing. Pussy learns hope. Pussy finds a place ungrabbable, a place out of reach, an impenetrable phosphor dot kingdom: Church of Electric Untouchables. Pussy finds her holy here. Pussy calls him Glory. Pussy calls him Mystic Alien. Pussy calls him Closer, Closer. Pussy watches how he dodges touch, hands grabbing from all directions. Mystic Alien feels nothing, none of the hands. Hands grab but not enough. Pussy grabs, grasps, gasps for Glory. Pussy can’t reach. Pussy wants to be like that: electro-elsewhere. Out of reach. Pussy wants to be closer. Closer. Close, but out of reach.
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Demi Demirkol is an L.A.-based poet and artist. She has participated in poetry workshops at University of Tennessee, Knoxville and University of California, Irvine, where she now studies. Recent publications include Heavy Feather Review, Fractal, and Forth Magazine. Follow her on Instagram.
Photo Illustration by Nadine Kelly
Thursday, April 6th 2017