Braille & Daily

poems by Torinn Fennelly

lavender walls, lavender glow,
the smell of lavender linen,
shes sitting
up stiff and prim
like shes waiting for a fire drill to begin.
Im chipping away at our pebbled,vulgar[history, shes a [mystery --
shes all in [Braille,
impossible to know her
without touching her
and Im just so glad to be in this room]
to be watching the sweat drip,,,,,,down her back she knows that this is the first draft,
so she kisses’’’”” me on the mouth
and promises me more.
(I dont know what it is,
but Im already drowning in it )
If they ran in right now,
I wouldnt know the difference.
Im completely occupied --
technicolor cheeks(flutter
of sheets everything wanted or seen *** all sweet) -- peeling off her shirt to touch her breasts --
shes shouting in his defense,
is there any love without violence?
[why why why
do I] always end up
sprawled across the floor
with something just(shy of what Im searching for?

urge and urge and urge
i was a vitamin
there when i spritzed on perfume
urging me waiting there
staring at the ceiling of his room
i was a black dress[a purple throat kissed under a tunnel line with lights there : here and i thought
any shoulder would have done as well what the hell there
watching me urging me
missing my mouth[
my laugh carries through
the halls of her house]
here i was a glass of red
and i brought him to me so he could touch the soft urge of my thigh
he said no yes
yes in my head when i was a
flower here : there
crawling into bed a vitamin
urging him urging me urge and urge yes.

Torinn is a 21 year old writer living and working in Philadelphia. She attends the University of Pennsylvania.