6 Thoughts on Love

by Joe Sullivan

“Careful of the shells,” you

said. I wanted to taste

your white, and make

a table of your midriff.



Georgia's just a

place with

so little, but

an island nevertheless.



Sky's a thing we

seem to be, when the

light focuses on our




“Devastatin',” she said,

“Jes, devastatin'.” She couldn't

help but repeating. A Russia

had fallen.



Your keel was broken

like a simple thought

in the jackhammered




I channeled

your mother

and beat you

senseless, too.