charcoal or chisel
oh vanishing semblance
my mirrors gone black
vulgarly mouthed mantras
a yin and yang of yelling
mortars in a sky gone red
and grey
all smoke and neon, i’m
reminded of havens that
smell like radio music
warm porches, alabaster
veins inked with blue
pen marks and sun-specked
freckles
the way these stories peel
the simple arithmetic you
used to win, to teach me to
breathe deeper than I knew
I could, slower
so let me make new hands
for us, new faces to wear
to fancy parties, smelling
like old poppies and white
oleander, dead end signs
migrating to new avenues
and whiplash ampersands
have become our most famous
conversations and pieces
of dial tones get stuck
in our matching white teeth
some cracked
albeit inspiring to be
closed door, that kind of
listening is not something
we come to easily, no matter
how hard we tried
so just watching is the best we
offer each other
Ah, baroque bellies connect
our theories recorded between
clamoring bedroom walls, another
taste of nowhere behind your
stitch-stained knees
come sweep these diseases
from my pretty verse curses
no sailors to teach me the
ugliest language, i pretend
to eat their awkward eloquence
to spit pieces of cannon and oar
I knew what we looked like
together from memory, could
draw it in charcoal or chisel
it out of a cave’s inside, my
own ancient mural of sisterhood
flanked by the planks we
bounced our new heels against
splintering excuses at sword-
point, backed against air
a dare that defied our wickedest
eyes and a countdown to
the echo of
water
suddenly
displaced.
