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July 2, 2023

Daisy Womb

Sappho Stanley

When it snows, I beg my lover

to walk outside & listen to music with me. I love


the cold & how our snuggled bodies come

together like bugs sucked


by a venus flytrap. The night air

means dry skin & like I was taught,


I smear Vaseline on my face.

I want to call my mother


& tell her my use of her secrets—

to be told again about the perks


of soft clothes & wool socks—

the comfort of our spring daisies


& their velvet wombs

where a song of past


reveals itself.

Inside, I have to ask:


What song did you first play me?

Did you ever squeeze


your tummy against a speaker

& let the waves of fluid rock


me to sleep? Do I listen

to this song? In my softest moments,


do I press play & tell my lover,

I know all the lyrics to this one.