Gin & Bleach

My Reptile

Little frill d lizard

with your big mouth and your clutch of egg. Pure urge iguana –I wanna wanna wanna–heavy pet in a moist habitat. Your dewlap licks down my spine; your creep yearns,
yearns your crawl,
like a small machine that you rev and rev and rev until the engine floods.

Gin and bleach: two clear liquids aiming for purity, bordering the toxic. Catherine Wing’s poems are soaked in her cocktail, mixing doubt, loneliness, rough elbows, and razor focus. It riddles, aiming askew for a straight answer: how do we make our way through this world?