wordwhorse

your physical kiss
comes to me as a
definition or unbound
presence
a deconstruction of
my boneridged edges

I am still small

quiet

a stone

a weighted presence to

your absence

that shifts & fades &

returns like a

watched horizon

I watch the paraders pass by

thank them for their vulnerability and wait

wait for the sweated smell of angry desperation to shift

and buckle

opening a shimmering of something else  – something a little sideways

a little uncontained

a little fume of heat rising off the long hot bitumen.

and in those moments
when a new lover’s
fingerprints ridge textures
over my skin I
try not to remember you.

sometimes

the noise in my heart is

more perilous

than the noise in

my head.

i tumble the rawhew

of your words around

my mouth cutting

my gums and

spitting out blood like

gasoline.