Poetry by sterling-elizabeth arcadia

              ​ spablab CC



​
what happens in vegas stays in vegas

like the last time i came – in a plush queen
on the twenty-third floor of the bellagio – 
the last time i squirted before i died. 

& now everything is rotten, from the duvet
to my derriere. little lumps of flesh 
sliding off me under the sun,

my tongue fully evaporated 
in the heat. my mouth once 
so full of cum a graveyard 

of teeth. & i amble around,
now a moth-ridden woman 
looking for a proper mate,

someone who can help me fill my role
in this new, deader world, swell
my swolen body within these new walls.

look. i can be a lesbian &
a zombie. if he is
dead it doesnt count.

& if i lose my fucking head
to some cunt with blond hair & a spiked metal bat
ill still know what could have been:

me & my baby, back in the bellagio. crying together.
what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

              after “barren” by tess scilipoti and “army of the dead” by zack snyder





berry boy


berry boy
berry boy
pick me a breakfast

pick me a breakfast
as soon as ur up

pluck it
and hold it
and gather our meal

hold onto ur harvest
and play in the dew

berry boy 
berry boy 
play in the dew 

play in the dew
as u fill up ur hands

breathe in
and smell it 
get soaked to ur skin

fall in the brambles
and scratch up ur knees

berry boy
berry boy 
scratch up ur knees

scratch up ur knees
as u pick ur way through 

hike up 
and hike down 
along the blue ridge

mountains u slept in 
with me close to u 

berry boy
berry boy 
come back to me 

come back to me 
with thorns in ur knees 

walk in 
and sit down
and take off ur shoes

make me a coffee
and kiss me awake

berry boy
berry boy 
make me a coffee 

make me a coffee
and offer me cream 

grab it
and pour it 
and put it away 

brush back my hair 
and ask me to stay 

berry boy
berry boy
ask me to stay 

ask me to stay 
as ur knees slowly bleed 

let me clean u 
and bandage u
play with my curls 

join me for breakfast 
drip juice from ur lips 

berry boy
berry boy 
let me be urs 

pick me a breakfast
and scrape up ur knees

kiss me
make coffee
and hand me band-aids 

tug on my pony-tail
share all ur fruit 

berry boy
berry boy 
let me be urs

sterling-elizabeth arcadia (she/they) is a trans poet and diy tattooer in washington dc, where she watches birds and cares for her cats. she is currently working on a chapbook of queer ekphrastic love poems based on her friends’ instagram posts. her work has been published in Stone of Madness Press, Fuck Your Dreams Zine, and Rejection Letters, and is forthcoming elsewhere. 

​Photo by Riley Halliday

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