The archeologist/my body in archeology
by Erin Ambrose

You kissed me hard – screwball hard – like you were digging for something. Have you ever felt searched like that? Searched and scavenged by lips that thrust through your skin like blood shovels, wrenching your gums, throttling your teeth, wrestling for gold? I waited for the gentleness to come, to settle. But you never had a gentle heart.