Our Breath

Sunday afternoon and I’m balanced mid-flight,

Wearing black riding boots and nothing else,

Laughing back at you,

One heel on the 9th stair and the other on the 10th.

 

I can still feel each slap,

My knees sore from kneeling on the living room floor,

Your hands were holding me still and hitting me.

I am pink and there will be bruises.

 

You call me downstairs,

And throw me to the floor again,

I fall, grateful for the speed of your touch,

As I hurl to the ground,

I love the air as I move so quickly,

The rough of you shoving me unexpected.

 

Then you sit astride me,

Denimed thighs on either side of my torso,

Pinning me, binding me immobile,

Your hand that holds my nostrils shut so I cannot breathe,

Smells comfortingly of tobacco and cunt.

 

You lay your lips on mine – we kiss,

You give me your used breath,

The breath that has already traveled throughout your body,

Swirls inside the cavern formed by our joined mouths,

Our lungs bellow together,

You breathe for me and into me,

We glow inside one another,

The air that is in us is sparkling desire and love.

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About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a genderqueer San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran. They live with their Maine Coon cat, Lulu, and bake yeasted waffles every Sunday morning. Behrouz Gets Lucky is their first novel. You can find their erotic short stories sprinkled in various anthologies, including Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 and Sex Still Spoken Here. Avery is currently working on a book of more of Behrouz and Lucky's shenanigans, a memoir, and an illustrated early reader children's book about a eight year old transgender boy and his family.
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