Dylan Harbison

Yes I made love to a man

he loved me
because I always leaked blood
and yes I let his hooked fingers
enter me and yes
I was always looking up
but not at him past him
past the ceiling at the sky
and yes my whole body
dripped sweat like it was trying
to escape itself and yes
the crashing together
the splitting like a struck tree
and yes I died and I died
and what was it I wanted?
what was it I came here for?
I think I wanted to be saved.
I wanted him
to make me ask for it.

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Dylan Harbison is a writer from Burlington, Vermont. She now lives in Western North Carolina, where she studies creative writing at UNC Asheville and runs Meter & Melody, a local poetry series. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Offing, Prelude Magazine, South Florida Poetry Journal and elsewhere. She loves tercets and sitting on porch swings late at night.