My First Lover Speaks to Me as I Sleep With Her, Raven Jackson (PANK magazine)

This is what it feels like to split the shell of a woman.

Shards of her everywhere. Animal light spread across

the walls. For a second, I feel like a boy entering
a woman for the first time. My skin shivering as if pulled

from the banks of a river. Clothes shapeless on the floor. When she moves
beneath me, I wonder how someone could enter her like a hook

thick as ropes. Tear her into two. And he comes to me as if I’ve closed my eyes.
The braided scar above his lip. The clench

of teeth on my ear. Like this, he says, showing me how to peel her back
like husks. Like this.

*****

Holy shit.

So much amazing.

Sometimes I go weeks without looking at much poetry. Some still filters in, thanks to some excellent poetry bloggers on tumblr (for example lifeinpoetry) and some poets, journals and magazines that I follow on facebook (for example Sam Sax, Australian Poetry). And PANK... when I remember to check it. But man, when I do...

Poems like the one above make me exhale audibly... make me throw my head back and say "fuck", or similar. 

They seem tangible, and I will be thinking about this poem for a long time.