"The Piece of Paper" by DS Maolalai

she tells me about her film: it's

abstract, she says,

but only in the particulars. it's about a man

who falls in love with a piece of paper

but edgy

because he fucks it

there are scenes

of him fucking this paper

done romantically

with soft light. then

at the end

after all of this

he looks at it

and sees a phone number

that he calls.

it's funny - it was only

when I finished storyboarding

that I realised it was about me, she says,

as if everyone

doesn't only make art

about themselves. as if art
is not the probing tongue

touching the sore spot

under a rotten tooth

in a head

perfectly bound up with anxieties.


I kiss her

and it tastes

nothing like paper at all -


a round mouth

that had spent all night

eating lemonrinds

that the bar served on its drinks
as garnishes.