I value freedom most.
value the ephemeral in
our lives while also walking
tall, three inches taller than I am,
always on tiptoe
sort of dancing
sort of twirling and
touching things,
making threats in the air
when angered and
you say I am

          a bit virulent
is how you say it and
before we seek the advantageousness
of everything, it’s Friday
and we are
processing hard truths.
tell me,
where do you keep
your pocketknife?

 life is rushing and swamps
with its shades of
blue; azure
  (you name things)
sky, or cobalt fluid
or nightmare
like a wall of nail polish
you’re reading every
dressed up inch of you.
your rehearsed malignance.
your cocked smile.


the moon moves
from womb
to waste
to task those
unsewn wounds
and you embrace things now
with reticence
but you’re open to the epitaph
scrawled across the rock hard
you made him carve across
your eyelids that night
on Jupiter:
I remember everything.

but you didn’t ask for anything
you just opened a door
and walked in.



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