When I Masturbate

When I Masturbate

When I Masturbate 640 960 Virginia Werba

I think my neighbor can
hear me, when I knock my head
on the wall.

I can hear her hear me;
she fries two eggs—maybe
she lives in the flakes

between. My mother hears
me too; 291 miles away, she’s
finishing a thousand piece

puzzle (one hundred plastic santas,
all with glaring lips) leaving one
piece out, a creamy

porcelain cheekbone pillowing
his boiled black eye;
she hears me hearing her
hearing me.

Header photograph © Icy Blu Daniel.

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