I liked your pressed shirts
kept on you.
end of day:
wrinkled, faint bleach smell,
sleeves rolled up past your elbows,
I count four moles on your forearm
musk standing straight and consumptive
eating away at the fresh cotton scent
you sprayed in the air and
walked through just before I
laid on my side,
urged you to come in
I was always craving the earlier temper
that had you so wet with sweat and
You would re-enact shit:
yell at the floor and I would become it
to prove my loyalty
to soft barrage.
I assured you of my masochism,
let you whip me guilt-free.
spent hours in the mirror
counting each mark;
the ways you showed me
how you owned me and I
followed your hot bellow
all the way to North Philadelphia.
I’m stuck in North Philadelphia.
I’m stuck in a daydream.
I’m stuck in a memory of a canopy of a
full fertile moon
that I painted my toenails under
the night he said,
“I want to see you more often.”
And my feet shimmered:
stars of the portentous summer.
You say love freely now without any meaning,
but the word holds a bit of a sharp weight;
like a knife when it’s oil-stoned, serrated
and facing you and you aren’t sure
how this is gonna play yet but you’re
trusting and palms out;
I count three cuts across your fists
like expectations you had on yourself
or someone else when you should have just
taken out the trash,
bit each other’s tongues and hushed;
like a sudden accident
and you are humbled and
unusually quiet and
I looked in my bag today and saw
a bottle of blue polish
The train screeched to a halt
and I saw people tumble through the
I saw men that wanted to
shred my spaghetti straps with their
pocket knives and abscond with the fabric
to prove their might to
I smiled to show them my canines:
remind them women are animals,
women are predators;
foxes, defensive and
all of the time.
doors are opening
I found a book of poems that someone
printed for me and
a nail file.
(be creative, child.)
Are these signs or are these shadows
that are chasing me?
doors are closing
Asked for a hint.
(this unfolds reversing)
Now you become the braced masochist
and I become
the looming hit.
Began the note in my phone: