i wish i could write poetry that feels like the cold knife of your body against mine in the parking lot when i was 19 and had 12 dollars to my name after tips and you whispered my shift schedule in my ear while you sliced at my thigh and my breast both the boss and the devil in that moment
is there a way to describe the tripping sound a heart makes when viscid blood turns to air
the tribulative organ gasps&falls gasps&falls gasps and falls
Liv Grace is the anarchist Jewish dyke who lives next door. Their work explores the intersection of generational trauma, medical trauma, the violence of capitalism on disabled people, as well as the unsquashable beauty of interdependence, queer love, and crip rage.