Alina Pleskova

Do I look alive

enough out there?


Crushed velvet

signaling my intent


to be devoured, undone,

et cetera, whatever else


shows veritable effort

I want useless splendor,


to be as carried off

w/ rapture


as the woman who kissed

a Klimt hanging in a gallery,


later said It was a gesture of love...

I did not think it out carefully


I want the class wars to start

but everyone's so tired


All these neologisms

​for disruption & innovation


& still, not a soul I know

confuses precarity w/ play


Eros, I've looked

for you all over


Our totalitarian state

​glitched out my libido


& I give over whole afternoons

to huffing lavender,


hitting up ghoulish senators,

browser history littered


w/ herbal elixirs &

​all the things I should know


how to do by now. All around

me, women grip the buoys


of their autonomy to stay

afloat until personhood washes up


on the shores of no nation

I stockpile intimacies almost


too ephemeral to clock:

strangers act so kind


whenever I wear

this ridiculous pom-pom hat


& old friends use my name's diminutive

& some lovers leave


a glass of lemon water by the bed,

my body carved w/ red filigree


Desire doesn't aspire

to anything other than itself--


I don't miss so-&-so,

just being seen in that way,


just having an unholy place

to rest, set all this down

Found In Volume 47, No. 03
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  • Alina
Alina Pleskova
About the Author

Alina Pleskova’s first chapbook, What Urge Will Save Us, was published in 2017 by Spooky Girlfriend Press. She co-edits bedfellows - a biannual print & online literary magazine that catalogs work about sex, desire, & intimacy.