by Ann Pedone
​©2020 Johnna  Hansen                                                                                                       
IG: @johnnabhansen    

Ann Pedone graduated from Bard College with a degree in English and has a Master’s degree in Chinese Language and Literature from UC Berkeley. Ann is the author of the chapbook The Bird Happened, and the chapbook Perhaps There is a Sky We Don’t Know About: a Re-imagining of Sappho is forthcoming in December. Her work has recently appeared in RiggwelterMain Street RagPoet headCathexis NorthwestThe Wax Paper, and The Phare, among others.
Re-Reading Jacques Lacan's Desire and Its Interpretation While 
on a Ship Sailing from Athens to Corfu

Imagine if the taut young skin of a word, say mari
gold deliverance or promiscuity, suddenly rubbed
 up against the fleshy part of your inner thigh, the 
soft concave of your belly, or that deep curve in
your neck. That spot he always says smells
like cyprus and almond and bone. 

Have you ever tasted burnt honey. It’s unbearable. 
Like a husband lost to the night. Or an owl in 
a woman’s chest where the heart used to be. 

Out of so few words he spread her legs. I’m going
 to eat you. I’m going to eat all of the light out of you.
Makes you wonder, which is the more fragile 
mechanism, language or the body. 

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