“Strength does not have to be belligerent

and loud.”

I derive so much from speech.

the license plate that careened into the pole

instead of me that night read

“ prisons” and

I knew instinctively how

he felt, no exchange.
there’s my moon.

and my Venus nestled in her

vindication, her frequent

illicit engagements kept dark

in that dusty

twelfth house.

i’m becoming a panacea of my own:

memory, tincture,

the fuss of first love,

dead flowers.

draw my speech
out of the older sutures:

undo, redress,
pamper the wounds .

think about it.

send you a letter.
A CLUE.

 reminding you to

think about it

she is out casting cars into ditches

while you cautiously wait

for lights to change.

you are holding selenite

in your pocket,
fingers curved like
my indelible smirk.

standing where they

are now

sitting and

wilting

in screams,

it was the way I asked

in a bit of a curtsy:

one more chance 

and they all lose their

breath just like that.

“the 12th house”