at least I give you transparency.

even when I’m moping, I’m dancing
in songs of satin
rippling with sob and shimmering
deep    bright with
the sky’s opacity.
I am combusting: a
flood of recourse and  
you are
drowning, immersed
in capillaries bursting  with crisis
and then immediate clarity.
my hands let go of the
flood I’m cradling.

you watch me move
like a snake across your
ceiling draped in shifting
you have no choice but to
memorize and I’m wearing
the crescent as a crown and
your ears like a gown
and someone else is full of warnings
gutting rabbits
in the garden.
                             each night I go to God and ask
                                   for favor.
                             in the morning, I remember
                                       one line.  

I hand them back their most
prized possession:
a page, one line;
one at a time
wrapped in
flakes of
shrimp and you
told me you were




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