the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
“O how he loves you, darling boy. Oh how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him,
chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night.”

— Richard Siken, excerpt of You Are Jeff


@темы: with serpents for arms the lovers are the hydra of the tale