The syllables of my name
Unmoved
By song or siege.
A liaison of compliance
I sleep on my knees.
Newborn only
After stars have died
Trickster. Strip tease.
The braided hair
Of women I loathe.
I am the race of Cain.
The smirk in me, the simper.
An artifact of what whim?
I have only ever cried
For myself.
Help me. I am glacier
Mouth and crater.

No one knows where I am
And I am as melt and laugh and purr
And smoke and cherry in the old Port.
What use do I have for them now,
Those haphazard things.
I press my breast against the rail
And **** the white scented
Flesh, spit the seed into the sea
Here right where the boats
Come in. No one knows where I am
And can in my hand
And a freeze of freedom as
I scale the mast and plant
My flag, the crown of a fir
My bed. A shrine, graffito
From inside my mind
Penny-closed eyes and I am
The hymn, the itch and the soil.

I shrieked into this world
With a thousand teeth.
A plunder of gardenia,
Gripe water. How night threads
The throats of felons. Whispers spectre
Into their airs. No longer slowness 
Of summer. This — 
The exactness of blades.
I suffer you as gladly as palm fruit.

My persistent body, sea
Ice and glaciers, switching
Cells. Our inkblots, mirrors
The dark art of inheritance.
How I rose and rock, and
A freeze of feeling.
I have survived the moon.
And the sublimation of mothers.

I’m sorry for speaking ill
Of the living. I’m sorry for leaving
The door wide open
While the children slept.
I’m sorry I ran to the lighthouse
Where every painting pointed
I’m sorry for whispering
Descending numbers into a rose bush
(I had to prove I was real)

I’m sorry, barefoot
With the dogs
And the wild boar.
Barely perching.
(I knew then, something held me)
And that time
In the room
With the ***** wallpaper. How
The world ended right there
(Behind my eyes).

So you take it.
This with no name
This with the prowl in its eyes.
Am I your ram? Your grand offering?
I carry a hell
Behind each eyelid
And a deep knowing
I refuse to name.

You remind them of condensation
Barely there and too heavy.
Of long corridors with endless doors
Each marked ‘Hazard’
When you enter a room
The weight of the world
Shifts on its feet
You are magnificent with tenderness
Raw as wire on teeth
You black magic hollycock
Towering in impoverished
Earth. Sprawl out your sorrows
Take every last swallow of sunlight.

You were so full of world
And whirl and maybe
I could see submerged cities —
Moonlight refracted off your bones
Places you’ve never been.
Your sighs to dance like they did.
All feathers. All sequins.
Your ballroom of tomorrows

You have been on your feet for years
Swaying to the rhythms
Of your thankless children
Bowing to the sickly.
No whisk or wing
The midday sun
On your peony skin.

When wine soaked serenades
Were decadence
And our confessions
Were music itself
You threw your handkerchief
Into the gas fire.

The extravagance
Of Ice cream.
Of taking both flavours
In your mouth.

What can I tell you
That won’t **** us both?

It’s your turn to waltz now, my lamb
What else do the dead wish for?