Friday, December 18, 2015

stigmata



my lover, he don't hold my hand
no, he likes to see me fall
eat it on the wet pavement
dirt and rain and leaf debris
all up under my skin

(he laughs:
no child, he says
it ain't like that

child, i ain't never let you fall
not you
not me

i ain't like that, child)

he presses his hand to my back
under my ink
between the blades
where wings grow
and the heat of him
it burn there like a sign

he touch my cheek
run the line of it
like he's the wind
like he's writing the line of me
this girl,
this how she be
how i made her,
the lines i drew

and i feel hot hot heat
under his touch
his laugh runs down
my spine
all them lines he drew

and my cup,
well my cup runneth over

every time new, girl
he says
every time like the first
he break this open
over and over like it ain't
never been broke

blood runs down my thighs
the true stigmata
the burning touch

girl, he say
child
i don't never let you fall
don't be that way girl







Monday, December 7, 2015

morning haiku

another morning
sandy buys silence with coffee
ew: this danish is strawberry