by Matty Layne Glasgow


                        after Chen Chen 


In winter, he taught you to love your shit,

that everything coming out of your body 

is perfect, & you can touch that beauty if 


you want. You understand it is all about

love by the end, how you hope someone 

will handle your mess like it’s still a part 


of you worth protecting. Remember all of

those times it wasn’t about love? The one

boy who looked down at the small fleck 


on his cock afterwards, said that’s fucking 

disgusting. You just stared blankly at him, 

wondered what he used his asshole for. 


You said the same thing to your first, 

& it was about love that time. Remember 

the empty feeling in your belly when you 


saw it on yourself? Of course you do. You 

still feel bad, want to apologize to every love 

you’ve ever wronged, but you’re getting older. 


Your insides have only ever known a hollow 

shame you’ve tried to fill with nameless men.

Know that I only say you, because I’m scared,


because I’ve heard it’s bad to be too wrapped 

up in the first person, because I hear too many 

people describe other people’s words as shit 


lately, & I don’t speak up. I don’t say we can 

all be some kind of hot shit. I just stare blankly 

& remember it’s all about love in the end. 


I imagine how someone must have fucked 

those words free. Give me more of that shit; 

I’ll hold that shit in my hands all night.