Kelly Cressio-Moeller, Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You, 2024
Acrylic on canvas, 36 x 36 inches
She’s close, & then she disappears.
Her thighs peel off the leather backseat
& her breath spreads then fades
in the rearview mirror. The glare
of streetlights erase her. Her thighs
over yours in the backseat. Your breath
against her lips. The taste of cherries & metal.
The highway lights behead her. Her glare
lingers dead-on you, brutal. She’s against you,
beside you, inside you, spreading,
then fading into the mirror. Dead on arrival,
not dead enough. She’s closer than she appears.