Missa Brevis

by Madison Golding

21 August 2026

your tongue traces a line of lighting from my belly button to my chin, your beryl eyes fix on mine and i’m afraid to let you see me

you shudder, downy hairs prick my ear, breath a fever my fingers finding flame inside you i the tinder, you the beltane

you arch, i follow deeper unbroken rising in steam

our teeth graze unlocking a desert dream

sprawled naked, untethered, in a mica cave ancestors painted red ochre staring from stone my skin a magma slab ready to crack

my mouth tastes like feldspar, like cambrian seas like rock their eyes trace my skin: beloved, begotten, beautiful

the mass is over i am named thanks be to god

about the author

Madison Golding writes poetry, absurdist romance, and essays that treat love as a survival instinct, a well-intentioned disaster, and a bad decision you’d make again. Pro-justice. Pro-queer. Pro-terrible choices. Writes from the Washington, D.C. area, which might be one of those bad decisions.

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