fingertips reach into burrows tonight,
brooklyn and bronx,
where i most wish i could lay
these bones that wish to be buried

count seconds,
hold breaths,
make wishes,
then promises,
to gods i don't
believe exist,
so that i may
look into eyes
that truly know
what goes on
behind mine

fire off framed fragrances and
feinding freight trains headed
for longing, lust, and love in all
of the ways that i could've sworn
i left when the bed was still wet
and my memories weren't those
of a woman without remorse

days spent
looking 'round
corners with
mirrors,
tales told  
of creatures
that turn liars
into stone,
step slowly,
hold steady,
fire quickly,
and give
always to
the great
unknown