When in Charleston you
eat fried pickles
drink cheap and
pass out a
few feet from where you
gave your heart
to an island girl
a girl who wrinkled her nose as
a sign and said she once saw
children
painting the grass red like
my eyes before she
sucked the fireball from
my lips and spat it out like tobacco
you look undamaged she said
before she turned my forearm
and licked the scars
as I wondered how chest bones open
and how to give what is already
torn like
communist pamphlets
but she scratched my cheek
leaned her head on my words
I can twist my legs around a branch
and walk on my hands she said
what makes you think I won't walk miles to twist them around you?