knowledge unfolds:
patient painted origami girl
with sharp edges and a creased mouth
cutting eyes and slitting fingers
numbers etched on the slideshow hips
the machete bone twist of
narrow shoulderblades.

boxes have better futures,
contents less embittered.

quarters drawn and dragging, svelte
turn of a lip still stinging so she's felt this
practice of rebellion of spraying club lights
splattered like a cut throat in colors
she's only seen from behind glass doors,
as such she will never see them the
same way again.

high rise of white silk on the ground,
light sparks from the sick yellow streetlights
to the ground and to her eyes cooler still
than the air that sticks and strains, smoky-
bright with each curse and blessing spilt
from the raw mouths of children.

she sees everything, the slick slim
material of her legs a fine fabric no one has
ever been able or willing to afford; looking
at her is like looking at futility, invisibility,
immortality.

the fauxsilk limbs curled, call your sutras girl,
so dark and rapid breathing with no womb to call
her own. not even her own; give it away so you
can call the jackal screaming, he'll chase up your
dreams, fly on through.

look at her and she'll see into you.