The Maynard
Spring 2016

Cindy Pereira

Notes From a Relationship with Hades (#1)

This prairie cold has split my lip.
My mouth tastes like metal.
You haven’t kissed me yet.
You grasp my fat white hand
in your leather-clad grip.

Your breathing is heavy.
We are only trying to drag
grocery bags loaded with
packages of raw meat uphill.
We stumble upon and swear
at patches of black ice.

Sweat trickles down my back
and warm need pools in my chest.
You haven’t kissed me yet.

My jaw clicks as our feet crunch
on dirty snow. I squeeze your fingers tight
and pray—pray for the crack-pop of broken bones.
Pray for a love less violent than our own.