Stomach somersaulting as the vessel cuts through frothing waves. Seventeen-year eyes split open long enough to photograph the ocean.

It wrecks my head.

****** back to a svelte boy on the green. Crouched with parts convex—awakening new territories. Every movement rippling through memory.

Until my mere existence is ad nauseam, personified.

Let me just slap, slap, slap the face until blood is ice water. Shuffling naked feet onto the quilted altar. Bottle of wine to consummate the lie.

This unsheathed saber will be my dread eraser.

Guts back-flipping the first time I take it all in. A lubricated overture until a symphony of deliciousness rushes through my thirty-year spine.

Alas…every crest, crashes.
Every joy, disposed of.

& when night comes, I’m alone in this tide pool. Running low on oxygen, but I’ve got oodles of unsynchronized love.

The wet blade snaps it all in half, until the cobalt surface sings of doom—impending.
Enveloped into the foam.
Wrecked in the head.

After years pass
there are
                    fragments
of memory
that scab up

The coagulation
Transmorphs
Into a siren
Luring me

To pick them open
like a lock
Just to call them
                    home
once more

Time has been
                          lost again.
Falling
into the
cracks in
the floor.

With a pounding heart
I grasp
for the remnants
                              of memories
but they have      slipped
into distant          caverns.

Blurred figures
of my past
constructing walls to
                                   opaque themselves
to mere whispers.

I’m sorry I was late
But you waited patiently
Then stood tall
In your black leather jacket
I was enamored and
Felt myself
Just a little bit
Fall

Into your grasp
Against the side
Of my car
You raised me
Until my neck
Craned over
The luggage rack

Then into the back
Seat we sprawled
Entwined like
Tasting notes
Of a fine wine

Your touch was
Divine
Your lips
Gracing my spine

You never responded
To my texts
I’m sorry I was late
La Grande Bellezza
Now forgotten
                        forever

Brace for impact because I’m coming home. Slam dunked into the veins of ancient loves. The dog is dead. Just a skeleton of unspoken things in a backyard cemetery. What did the military teach you, John? You can buy up the cable news, but you can’t rewrite history.

You can bury your lavender lips under the leaves of the world, but you can’t erase the ***** stains. They remain.

Buckle up because I’m on your doorstep. Ten tons of faggotry on your front lawn. Tell your daughters to look away. Because daddy’s mistake is here to stay. It’s Christmas of ‘23 and the trees are a choir of yesterday. We share this memory. Thrown from your embrace on the ATV—my tailbone cracked the ice. I cried. But the pain was bearable because your rosebud blossomed only for me.

Three gilded gifts
Shimmering in rays
Corn silk hair dancing
Arms wrap and
Fingers graze

Giggle harmonies
Dip and swirl
Maternal mantra:
Hate this
Love that
One boy
A girl
And a girl

Two souls adrift
Firelight glance
A love spurious
Yet sincere

Picket fence and
Living room dance
The Void
The Great Elephant

Her fist
To his chest
Children from window
See her testament

Hundreds of folk
Gather in droves
By tongue
Garner community

Elitist *******
You burn like stove

Wooed by dark whisper
She surrenders to fear
The demon of cult
Death kisser

One man
In a room barren
He sees
No boy
Nor girl
Or girl

Drug into a life
Without sharin’

Birthdays
Are dagger days
Loss
A neck-roped anvil

Recalling fingers
In hair of
Maize

The radio screeched
With impending doom
So we grabbed what we could
And bolted out of the room

Midnight rain
Like knives
Across my cheek became
As we race into the night
With a prayer and a
Plastic flashlight

A few hundred yards
And we’re at the edge
Of the ravine
Against my round belly
My wet clothes cling
Even in this moment
I feel dis…
Gusting wind pushing me
Hard into the ground
Mud in my teeth
Pulled back to my feet
By the leash of a hound

My mother’s hand
Guides me
Down a steep
Wooded ridge where
We grasp onto a tree
Knee-deep in water
With debris-riddled hair

She wants to protect me
But I’m mad at the world
This storm ain’t got **** on me
Eyes closed
Knuckles curled

I just want to exist
So I wrap my
Fists  around
The throat of God
Call me an exorcist!

A thunderclap
Like a holy slap
Awakens me
From my rage
But my anger is righteous
And will not be assuaged
.
.
Silence for a moment, then
.
.
The air becomes strange
Wet and hot
I feel the chemicals change
In the atmosphere
And within my frame

Fingers of lightning
Pull me into the sky
I spit the mud from my mouth
With a glint in my eye

I’m above the tree line now
And I have no master
Crossing state lines
I am a natural disaster

Every attempt to contain me
Is laid to waste
Every missile fired through me
I consume in haste
Your fear is palpable
My tongue savors the taste

I
Am
The
Tornado
Ignore the warning
On the radio

Because there is
No shelter
My monsoon
Is at your gate
I will tear into your
Palaces of hate
The bones of your disgrace
Broken up like kindling
In my roaring fireplace

Sweaty bodies spike volleyballs outside of the avocado. That’s when you strolled in with some sand in your toes. A few chance hellos & maybe a wave lost in the mist of a crowd. But that wasn’t it.

Nor the platinum locks & black triangle pointing down with no birthday drink,
Nor the lack of sushi in a rooftop bar where strange girls tell us how perfect we are,
Nor the climbing onto your lap when we make out in your car,
Nor the deep-throat choke that went too far.

It was fast & it was fun with ladles of pre-*** but not enough love. Maybe if your heart had the right gland, you’d drip something meaningful into my cup.

& when the pouring rain collapsed the windshield, I witnessed hometown glory trampled by equestrian gold. & your touch was cold. But your homes have such stylish throw pillows.

Now you get your pills for *******. & your smile is a jackknife. While I’m down the hall listening to a young man from Venezuela who ran through the jungles of Panama so he could sit in a rooftop bar or make out with a boy in a car & not fear for his life.

Don’t make those eyes
I’d sooner carve
Out my own
Than let yours
Meet mine

Don’t smile
I’d rather
Disappear
Completely
Than curl
My lips

Don’t think
I didn’t notice
Your hips
As I drift away

Don’t think of me
Like I think of you
It’s all tarnished now
There’s nothing
I can do

Same serpent
New skin
She hisses
A fantasy
As she slithers in

My vulnerability
A weakness
An opportunity to
Sell a dream
The bitter
Sheathed in sweetness

I swallowed the lie
And it tasted delicious
Like fresh mint
Crushed
Into a summer mojito
Cool and crisp
Now where do we go?

How about
Lake houses
And concerts
Front porches
And desserts

Then you can

Take me to the beach
Choke me in sand
Call me a king
While twisting me into
A pawn whose silver
You leach

No longer a friend
But a means to an
End

You held my grief
In the palm
Of your hand
Then squeezed it
Like a lime
What an unholy
Crime

The scales have tipped
Your ruse has been revealed
The well is poisoned
Your wine congealed

You are nothing
But a chapter
In my story
Watch as I
Flame your pages
In resplendent
Glory

And
Dermot sang of
A raven and a dove
But in your version
Of a kingdom
Both don’t fly free

Remember me,
Oh viper
The blackbird
With a cigarette lighter
Because
You’ve been flinted
Deleted
And I’m newly
Minted

Recoil from my shine
As the truth
Burns your eyes
I bid you goodnight
And I bid you goodbye

My memory of you
Like your ego
Will wither and fade
Along with
The skin you’ve shed
In the lonely bed
You’ve made

I’m twelve
and you’re in
the living room
gasping.

I thought the
coffee ***
was percolating
but it was just your
last breath
death rattle
reverberating.

Your damage
wasn’t deleted
by the coroner’s
gurney leaving.

It bubbles up
in flashes
rapid fire
and
seething.

Dripping from
your body bag
retreating.

Echoing down
every hall
leading
toward a
semblance of
healing.

The finality
of your
lungs
evacuating.

Eroding
into the
beginning
of my digging.

Twenty-seven
years later
still
excavating.

Memory
a delicate
figurine.

Tumbling
into nothing.

A shard of metal—electric taped to the portal. Shrapnel from a cymbal. Or was it a symbol? Bell bronze. Nickel silver. If you strike something enough, it’s going to break free. Or did I just break everything? Factory grease. Sociology. Sometimes I fantasize about climbing a tree. The tree is named Cereal. And when I ascend, I am camouflaged in green. Waiting for winter to take me under its wing. I become an alloy. A sonnet. She ties her weathered bow around my rust. I know it’s disgusting. But when you swing the gate—my patina sings.

The owl outside my window
Doesn’t hoot
He screams
Which sends me running
No, tiptoeing
Through dark rooms
Until
Into your doorframe
I lean

Father is snoring loudly
I shan’t wake him
Instead I silently
Crouch then crawl
To your side
Sweet mother

Your sleeping breath
I observe
Then my finger
Softly taps
Your slumbering arm
As you
Wake gently
To shield me
From harm

Your kind eyes open
And quietly
Slip out of bed
To lovingly take my hand
As we walk
Through dark places
Until
Resting my head
Upon the pillow
You hush the owl’s bellow

Curled up by my side
To cradle and comfort
Panic retreats as
You usher in
Peaceful sleeps

This selfless act
Is repeated
For years

Through every dark room
You guided me
And erased my fear
I see this now
And eternally
Feel you near

The ice cube cracked when kissed by a tepid spirit in the glass. A small triumphant sound to mark the first time his tongue tasted scotch and the lips of another man. A clarinet sleeps on the shelf while the crystals continue to melt. Like the bodies on the couch. Two piles of paint swirling into a color he’s never seen. This is a milonga. A gathering of souls. Forever fleeting.

I’m not sure if Mercury was in retrograde or if Sega was in genesis, but you slipped an unwelcome touch into my orbit & I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.

The Proclaimers hummed in the background as the aunties shrugged…

“Some people are born with tragedy in their blood.”

The nooseman approaches & with surrender on my lips, I say: “Sew me into the creases of your hemlocked hood.”

Tiny holes cut for beady gapes.
Do. Not. Look. Away.

The moon is wailing in chorus with mothers & brothers in hidden crypts over mountains of headless children born into snake pits.

800-588-2300…EMPIRE…today is the day we set you on fire. More cobra with desire until you suffocate on centuries of soul weight.

The ground opens up & the universe obliterates.

A spare bedroom tea set gathers dust in shadow of craven lust for more & more & more. The **** of a boy & the **** of the world. Holy rage steeped to liberation. Comrades healing together with blades unfurled.

No longer will we cower & beg for a piece of what’s already ours. The serpent’s spine rotting on concrete.

All hail the death of tyranny.

i never asked for this
a living tomb of wounds

scrap of fabric
edges too weird
for any pattern to hold
destined to be alone

but i’m okay
no, sincerely i’m fine

swallowed by sad songs
surround sounded bliss
a solitary tear
and ****-eating grin
while *******

We candled up the country road at dusk. An attempt to stretch the glow of the sun past its expiration. We laughed when the sparks withered. Then rallied and piled the heat into the backseat. The twilight on your crooked teeth. Lines less defined than the stallion I longed to ride. In my mind. I saddled and straddled the curves of your spine.

Forbidden dreams aching like curdled cream. You’d think it would wet the wick, but instead, ignited the stick. Someone call 911. I’m done like the sun. Bury me in the horizon. Ring the Fire Marshall and squelch the flames.

I am
u n t a m e d .

Finished by the hands of a Roman god. I’m far too dazed to notice the field ablaze. Scars carved into the charred limbs of the trees we planted. They tell how we survived. I’m lost in the brilliance of your summer skin. Your sweat, a song. Every drop a chord plucked…singing and begging for my licking. A forest of treasure. Your morel, my pleasure.

He was lost in the second verse when a hand settled softly on his chest. & if he knew then what he knows now, he’d see it not as gentle. Not as sweet.

He would’ve leapt from the sill of his second-story window if only to feel less perishable.

He’d mind the gap when boarding the train. Calmly staring out the window at the syrup sunset & a longhorn-shaped hole. A matador, too slow.

But it was the love J didn’t feel when holding him that sent him screaming down the street. It wasn’t serene. It was wet with love-deth.

&
d e a f e n i n g .

The chorus hit like an ice pick when the white car pulled up to drag his body away. The berbere dream euthanized and preserved in a jar. On display for strangers to gawk.

The way he held me
How his eyes sparked
When met with mine

My god it threw me
Into a hope
Consuming

But hope is tricky
And slippery
And devouring reason
Committing treason
For a season

Then returning
In the yearning
Of the glance
From a new boy
From a new romance

****.

Phases of the moon
Of the heart
A slivering slice of a crescent
The
Oh dear god
HOPE
Of a new start

LOL.

Just kidding
This new moon
And this new thing
Can’t be seen
In the dark of night
In my limited sight
Black-on-black
It’s all just the same ****
Right?

No way, baby!
Call it a maybe!
Call it a feather
In your hat
On your wing
Just fly into the horizon
Of the hope
Of this new thing

Until the arrow
Of the truth
Enters the marrow
Of your VIP booth
This is not cool
This is ruth…
Listen to me
You idiot
You fool

Remember boy one
Who held you
And flew too close to the sun
He burned you to ash
Then said “goodbye forever
I’m done”
Well, **** me up
That was fun

Then boy two
Who shoved you
Into the abyss
Wait...I’d be remiss
Not to mention
All of that ****** tension
Simmering
Steaming
Boiling
And Gleaming

Like the rays of the moon
Is she full yet?
Nah, it’s too soon
She’s still hiding
In the newness
Of nothing
Of black-on-black
Call me out
I lack a back
Bone to hold up
Any more hope

It’s all rotting now
In bed all day
Jotting down
Memories as if they will save me

Wow.


Okay.
Less saving
Instead
Evaporate me
Into the ether
Into the sun
Into the moon
The end seems far away
So I’ll just bide time
In my cocoon

Dreaming of the day
When she will bloom
Into her fullness
Picturesque
Over the crescent
Of a dune

you had the
a u d a c i t y
to walk in with
  green hair
& a grin


        ****, boy
bowl me over
i’m your pin


wash my mop
buy me a whiskey
drunk on the couch
getting             risky


peel off that blazer
  hand on my thigh
bleach blonde
        open wide


but when my
eyes are touched
by morning light
i’m alone
            no nirvana
in sight


i sigh
   & think
fantasies are fun
        juicy like
wet dreams

     w a i t
why is your
b r a c e l e t
on my sink?

Cranberry bedroom
a l l    f o r    y o u

Incense dust
Brushed off the
Small stone
Ring on my
Fat finger

Let it linger

If it was bigger
I’d don it ‘round
My neck &
Sink into the
River

LeBaron maroon
I was (not) meant for you
2,000 free
Minutes from a
Bag phone
I’m a practical
Joke laid bare
By the moon

Wine cooler berry
As wild as the
Unholy cherry from
An herbal cigarette
Held tight by a
Plump Mary

No one sees
Me when I’m
Neck-deep in
Water blue

I rest my head
On *****’s bed
I know she’s dead
But I
Still do

but first, it was the sun
scooped up by small glass
immolating ants in the tall grass
set free

then hiding out in the basement
striking 10,000 sticks
mesmerized by the shimmer
until it kissed my fingertips

how did i not burn our house down?

the mysterious charm
becomes mere utility
on the farm
burning copper
for a few dollars
the tower of black smoke
reaches out like
a dystopian arm

then a wood-burning stove
to escape two feet of snow
on the chocolate sofa
where my words
(not the heat)
left our home in flames

the matchbook
is nothing if not
mundane
these days

just two sticks
of incense
one morning
one night

a lonely ceremony

an occasional candle
whose light i want to
scoop up
& wash over me

Blood red mother, hold me close. Let my pain transfer to your hem. Hold me. Hold them. When the foolish men pray for the dead to rise. Shield me from their lies. Make them cease. May the car crash victims find their peace.

Blood red woman, hold me tight. When the bike tire meets the t-bar and the skull greets it too. Rubies poured from his head. I think he thought he was dead. Hold him with a hymn. Cool the panic. A crown of jewels. Paramedic.

Blood red saint, hold me fast. Don’t hate my future or romanticize my past. Your womb, she blessed you. Is there a blessing left for me? A son who’s not your son. Bleeding out on the lawn. Let it be.

the dust never settles
it compounds and
pounds on my door

(like)

wine that’s
been decanted
only to be poured
on the floor

i don’t know how
to unmaster the
lock

fumbling with keys
upon keys
i keep circling the
same block

always back to
the porch light’s
warm glow

from a home
i’ll never
(again) know

the villain in
this story
he exists to
sustain her
glory

(all the while)

she fills
her chalice
staining them
(all)
with regret
& malice

i saw a man
who held a garden
in his hand

i watched his
skin break open
like a plot of land

fractured root
sprouting into stem
a bead of blood &
the blossom began

tiny tomato
then two
spiderwebbed
in twine
a pepper grew

the sun shone
(too) brightly
that summer

a culling

razor wire
across the
dermal plane

“bring out
your dead”
she said
her cart
overflowing

i saw him look
back one last
time with
tired eyes

he witnessed a

poison apple
devoured
seeds and all
a new harvest
and a curtain call

as he was wheeled
away he thought
“i once held a
garden in my palm”

&
when the soil
encased him
he recalled
a living room fire
echoes
of a warm
song

The way your forearm sculpts as your fist pumps the steam. Give me all the toppings on a six-inch submarine. My god, I’m starving.

Eighty-five cents and something sweet. You’re laughing with your friends. But can you imagine? In the closet near the vending machines. You could be my BB King.

You see,
I've been downhearted baby
Ever since the day we met

And it’s worse at the bar. 1 am. I’m locking up when you hold me tight. You dare to kiss my neck. A choice, unfair. Boy, you better come correct.

Because you split. No ****. But I want two scoops of you in my bowl. Whipped cream and a cherry stem in my teeth. I could be your Dairy Queen.

Ever since we met
(your hair moves in the breeze)
I’ve been downhearted
(the way you look at me)
I’ll never be your baby

It almost went unnoticed
The 10,000 stones you
Bouldered upon me
Kind of a weird flex
I thought as my
Shoulders cracked
Within the breath
Of that thought
A new thought
Actually no
I breathe
And say
“No”

I like to call this thought the
Great Unencumbering
As I take your hands
And move them
Very very very
Far from me
I’m talking 10k
Miles away
Just gone
With a
No

A great power I hold
One that you will
Never ever
Own

To be knelt in a shower
Watching crimson mix with water
Some good ol’ fashioned
Pain drain

Bloodletting
How delicious

What is it about a cleansing ritual
That brings
Soot to surface

It’s scar tissue
Meets fresh wounds
Amidst the carnage
A kernel of truth

Cartography
How scrumptious

What is it about toweling off
That removes
Less than we thought

It’s whispered words
Meets silent screams
All this chaos
What does it mean

Decryption
How cathartic

What is it about slipping into jeans
That tucks away the secrets
Folds up the mental maps
Slurps the blood from the floor
And masks us up
For the world to adore

///

“How was your weekend?”

(wait, what’s my line?)

Plasma
A flushed cheek
“Oh…it was fine”
smiles

Merely existing
How divine

///

the wind in my hair on the drive to you
replaced by your fingers at night

( d e e p   s i g h   v o o d o o )

summer sunlight caught
in the mesh

i can’t cut the
u  n  c  u  t
silhouette

from my eyes
from my flesh

the same shape
along my arm

sink slowly
my treasure

milk down
the drain
             no harm

The soft velour
Of a Grand Detour

Please don’t notice
My lingering gaze
It’s probably
Just a pubescent phase

But for a little money
You could help and
Join me
In hard candy
Warm tea
and
Raking Beulah’s leaves

I take Eli by the hand and lead him toward the tattered door. “No one’s around. Let’s go in.” The thrill. Was it? Empty pews and stained glass glow. Past the alter to a secret corridor. The shallow pool. To lay our bodies. Disrobed and divine. Baptism. Was it? His pinkening cheeks. The shrill of a trapped bird on the sill. Or was that the sound of our release? A sticky truth in the holy halls. We rest. And breathe. Rinse it all down the drain. Salvation. Was it?

Eli looks at me while buttoning his shirt and asks: “Where do shadows go when it rains?” I take a sip of communion wine and lift my body from the baptistry. “Here.” My thumb stroking his left chest pocket. Christ, we both know about disappearing acts. He smiles for a moment before a tear unfurls like a ribbon. I kiss his eyes and then we slip out the back. My lips still salt-wet. Where does love live when it’s forbidden? My feet turn the pedals. Eli’s hands are on my waist as we bike into the sunset. Two fallen angels.

The boy was flying high on spells woven through white lines. In the wingspan of nine hundred & twelve days, once forbidden things have RSVP’d…now they are

Knock
Knocking

***** out & draped on the couch—tarnishing every song ever sung.

“Curtis, did you remember to feed the dogs?”

His mind—crossfaded & fried. He tries to summarize with forty-three lies eclipsing the snap of his fragile spine. & then a small smile that breaks your heart for the millionth time.

“I luv you so
much
much”

He proclaims before taking ten men in a Motel 6.

& when the front door opens
& the keys hit the bowl
You're too tired for conflict
So you tuck it away

Besides…
The dogs are okay
You watch Curtis fall asleep
A good end to a sadder day

sheathe me in
vanilla heat
all musked up
& shower wet

roll me into
a fat blunt
draw in the
dank taste

c o m e
undone

take me back
ten turns around
the sun when
you were my life

i’ll kindly ask
a stranger to
ignite the spark
in my teeth

because i’m a
bergamot *****
torching this
nylon dream

you try to
rip my pith
from your
brain pits

but when you
pull back his
husk to take
in the oud . . .

the sillage of our
love is conjured
& suddenly we
are back in the
b  e  d  r  o  o  m
on joseph avenue

Talcum powder
And water
And a few
Other things
Something pink

Smoothed onto
My innocent cheek
Like a mask
Fancy

The sneaking
Into your closet
The blouse
Falling off my shoulder
High-heeled stumble
I’ll understand this
When I’m older

The curiosity
Testing borders
Pushing limits
It’s always been
In me
This glimmering
Faggotry

He was brushing his teeth when the eyes begin to glaze over (again). He feels a torrent in his chest. Clawing up his neck. Thrown against the travertine. A little death. & the dead lay upon the living. & the dark corners swallow the light. It’s only eight o’clock in the ******* morning & he’s his own EMT resuscitating himself back to breath. He spits the Listerine & tries to forget. The Uber is arriving. & besides, who’d pay the fee for dying? He can’t stomach any more debt.

Visions of Gideon
Bite your heels
As you flee

This is the mystery
Of love
A retreat

My name in
Your throat
A futile device

On repeat

Look at us go. A gang of four awkward-toothed boys dragging our red bread wagon around. Hometown heroes with bouquets of flour. For a little green, you can slice the cellophane. Yeast in your nose and warm butter dripping.

Biking down Delaware. Left on Broad. Autumn’s vermillion blanket on the ground. John Deere and Orson Welles. Maybe in some fanfiction they were ******* behind the Casey’s General Store. Turning the soil to bury secrets. There’s an art in that. The rottweiler’s snarl is pulled back inside as the door closes.

My cousin lost an eye and I saw it floating in a jar like a marble on his nightstand. When it snowed I wondered if he only saw half of the flakes.

Before you left we each took a sharpie to a dollar bill: “FRIENDS 4 EVER”. Thirty years later it’s still tucked away in a little white box with a Michael Jordan valentine and mirrored blue marble. Something plucked from my childhood and I only remember half of it.

I found an old letter I wrote to you. November 8, 1993. 11:24 a.m. Nineteen minutes after my grandmother died.

“I miss you and hope that I can come visit sometime”

That winter was lonely. I climbed our sledding hill in my moon boots and as I looked across the tundra, I thought: I’m the last hometown hero.

“Ever since you left things have been pretty boring around here and I’ve been stuck in my house reading books”

I flew down that hill in my plastic saucer. The wind pulling every tear from my eyes.

“My pictures are in the envelope, when you write me a letter please write neatly”

When my sled hit the curb on Ridge Road I swear I kept flying. I’d say I never looked back, but that’s all I’ve been doing these days.

i slip from the
sheets to flip
the record

upon my return
i wonder if he will
make me clean
again

what these songs
mean to me
he will never
understand

how these
words & sounds
saved me from
the ground

he’s gone now
and i’m not
so sure
i’ll ever
be pristine

but i have
my vinyl
and that’s
all i need

our love was a gaff
a two-headed calf
suckling on the monotony

i laughed
uncontrollably
as you clipped my wings

the irony is
i’m a jackalope
a prickly freak

the velvet of
my antlers
is powdered &
shedding
onto the apple
of your cheek

a masterpiece
                     of grief

Or so he said
The god of my youth
Was a haughty friend

Let your sorrow pool into
The gaping wounds
Of my stigmata
He proclaimed

What was left
Was nothing more
Than a watered-down
Bloodstain

Yet I sustained

Another two decades of fears

And while no longer friends
I attempt amends
Recollecting my tears
To ink the story
Of my years

Did I once lubricate the sun? I don’t know. But I milked the golden hour before the moon began to devour. Skin stretched thin & bones banging (around). The thrumming drum of a pulse. A flesh sack, flannel-wrapped. I am what remains of a cold sunset. My stretch marks reach to touch places once fuckable, now not. Bacteria bubbling my cheeks. Kiss the peaks & disguise the disgust. I am the cold side of the bed—uncomfortably numb. Amoeba black & skinny jeans in the trash. Concealed in soft matte. Becoming unseen will be my greatest & final act.

“i’m sorry
for promising
more than i was
ready to give”
he said
& then
shook my
******* hand

i’m too broken
too much to bear

so string me up
on a fence
& staple to my chest
a warning

“you deserve better”
another one claims
as he pulls away

my damage
sets fire to the chorus
chokes the refrain

if
one
more
man
says
“i can’t give you
what you need” . . .

it’s going to be
a fuckawful
s   c   e   n   e

now, i’ve come
to accept
& wholeheartedly
concede

i am a ripe
swollen shape
so give me
deep space
or make it fatal
when the next
hammer swings