when I once,
a confused girl,
lost in her own devolving door of
pernicious longing
thought men to only eat things
without questioning where that
came from,
without questioning where God
was I continued with my saunter,
offered them a forked
tongue and a free ride
on it,

I thought men as only monsters.



to safely hold &
to be safely held;
is this the ineffable love
we have found?

I, the oracle,
bathed first in fire,
then in moonlight,
then in stage fright,
then in God’s light and
then it’s your tongue
licking the back of my
neck at night.

I stop to admire the cracks,

the defects in the painted walls
lining my new city.
bright blue or coral to
deter the mind from
slum or gentrifying
pay my respect in photographs
trying to remember how the
boulders haunted too,
how the ocean felt on my ankles
at gloaming,
how it feels to lose several small countries,
the crumbling block a metaphor;
dazzling overcoat that catches my eye
but nothing natural except its unsteady demise,
its inability to keep a home safe.
the way men have touched me

the way they left me;
cracked and unable
to keep a home safe.



we are all just whores in organic
cotton aprons 
store bought pie.

when one whore is gone,
we swoop 
to save you.

our boy,
we may way to
destroy you


apodyopsis inflicted
and I can’t lick it
so I imagine you unfold
like paper origami
one more time.
finger your jeans and
you spill open.

I lick your cheek and
feel you bite the side of
your mouth in halt and
can you remember
the times you fanged
your way through bra hooks
and brunches, never-ending coffee
and one-liners?
something the other ones taught you.
stiff congratulations or how are you and
that’s wonderful
followed by
nine months of inimical
I move quietly     quickly
distort you into something

my hands move
I keep you in amulet
in my pocket and I
squeeze you when I am
you are licked,
smoothed with assurance,
you’re the botched swan
I frame proudly;
me, robed in black flowers
and loaded rifle walking
out of mid-February
with you tucked in the crook
of my arm.
you become loosely creased
looseleaf reduced to a crumple
floating to the floor.

without altar,
a harmonic little
m o r e
in my palm
on your way
to the tile
where I gently lay
you    leave you
altered without prayers
once more.

leave you twisted
in want
like me.

“warning forms”


kiss her fingers and say:
you are a jungle.

I stretch,
and out falls a

What does love feel like?
she asks.

I turn,

and out falls another.
kiss flowered mouth through teeth
and say:

like a wet machete
ripping through the jungle