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straws and fire

Learned in motion she
made music with his flesh.
The man sat on his paws,
glistening with applause,
as all the stars bore witness
in darkened galleries.

As when a point turns lazily in a spoon,
nudging out between bubbles,
lust, for an instant, in the warm eddy,
piercing her wet with his flash of silver;
a girl and her spoon,
herself his element.

I’m afraid – I can’t see myself clear
in any mirror now but shifting dreams. This is
how poor Aiden went. Sometimes I’m several
and my choices laugh.

The doctor came and punched her with saline,
and she swam back to the rest of us.
Maybe she’ll be tamed by death;
a cold bath, a shock and rebirth.
And did she gain her audience with God?
Yet tomorrow morning will be brisk and bright,
ties in her purse, 3 hits bundled tight.

Who else can tell me how I should live?
Sleep walking through our days,
alive and not living, and where is the third way?

Down in the garden
I change into vegetable me:
a squash, a turnip, edible-y
fresh and green and wet my leaves
cabbage for the cleaver.
Her he knifes, peculiar worm
curling inside my heart,
what were my choicest parts.
But there is nothing I can do or say,
committed by my roots to time and place.

I’m well aware of my sickness;
I’m sick of being well.

Be aware, little girl, rose between your thighs. Are you more
than the sum of your desired parts?

My last dream gave me a terrible fear that I would not live long enough
to return.

Lonely little boys
fill me deep with joy
who innocently fuck
making angels of sluts.

Curious loves teach a girl
to be anonymous.