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  • Open House
  • Nicholas Wong (bio)

Spacious 1554 sq. ft. home with . . . huge dick for entertaining & enjoying the views . . .

An online property ad

The real estate that’s sold like sex was bought like sex with a typo I didn’t not notice. Space was male when unchallenged, generally not trusting. Fake was the arboreal décor near the porch, the half-hackled trunks slumbering from winter to winter to wince at absences, but what’s real was I, like the seller, also lied: finances, dreams that failed to cash out, hollowed bridge loans. And a few visitors. Body and home were proportioned to not function — My hand turned a knob, then a lock on the other side of the same door, where someone’s thigh was grabbed by the same hand that should have stayed away from all doors. Physical in-coordination was a sign of overinvestment. I thought of giving it up, this private space that gave me possibilities, but fidelity was warm, meanwhile full of holes. I once believed in settling, which was only guaranteed with buy high, sell higher. Who could? Outside, the shadows of trees dwarfed all uniqueness — the house’s, its cement’s. And the muscles’. Toes grew to aid Homo sapiens to pause upon walking. The sixth and twelfth ones I had made a sextant. I gave accurate readings on space. Space was never tired of errors, of erotic trespassing. It didn’t empty a wallet, the walls did. [End Page 1]

Nicholas Wong

Nicholas Wong’s next poetry collection will be published by Kaya Press. He is a finalist for the New Letters Poetry Award, Wabash Prize for Poetry, and recently the poetry contests of Tupelo Quarterly and Better: Culture and Lit. He is an assistant poetry editor for Drunken Boat. Corgis are his favorite human breed.



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