My eyes glow and glitter in the night
hard and reflective like obsidian
Watching you cradle her voice in your phone
if her words were golden-plumed cage birds
I would uncoil in an instant, spring and rip
Their little wings off.
Her wail soars
hangs in the air between us;
bleeding other-woman-anguish it
drops like a dead swallow into my palms.
It’s her suicide bid, her Hail Mary.
Your eyes are knifed with remorse
my sigh floats a white feather in the cold air.
In the barren coldness of this
New Mexico night
my wine weeps the dregs of
the distance between us.
My hands squeeze tighter,
bones pop, nails crease skin
the moon grins the truth at me:
I am the other woman too.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
My eyes glow and glitter in the night
hard and reflective like obsidian
Watching you cradle her voice in your phone
if her words were golden-plumed cage birds
I would uncoil in an instant, spring and rip
Their little wings off.
Her wail soars
hangs in the air between us;
bleeding other-woman-anguish it
drops like a dead swallow into my palms.
It’s her suicide bid, her Hail Mary.
Your eyes are knifed with remorse
my sigh floats a white feather in the cold air.
In the barren coldness of this
New Mexico night
my wine weeps the dregs of
the distance between us.
My hands squeeze tighter,
bones pop, nails crease skin
the moon grins the truth at me:
I am the other woman too.
