Still presuming you're in the right, still
believing I wouldn't lie because I
l o v e you; but ask before you leap
to higher ledges, and if you
count before you wait, bite your
eyes and take the peppered bait.
I won't lead you all astray, I'll
sneer inside you, watch your weight
all fall away
heavy breathing and the static music
of cherry-flavored smoke, lazily
drifting upwards to paint
rings upon the ill-placed blemishes in the
grouted ceiling, our shadows
dancing to that laughter strewn
euphony. As we
have hands, and they
have hands, and she
knows nothing while she sleeps like
your guiltless conscience.
they sit on the
half-worn-down couch you got
from a thursday morning garage sale:
its three sand-white cushions
(your muscular upholstery) one
for us each; our lips are
fiery-numb and the stolid atmosphere
is riddled with our gasps of
and we have hands, and they
have fevers, and she
enters through the deadbolt
without our noticing.
there is an imperceptible armchair
made of mice and sitting
in the corner with all the
glass ashtrays where your
christmas tree should be.
-we know each other, for It
makes us intrinsically familiar and our
avian bodies screech for one another
under our wigs and
when my desire moves I
feel her sleeping and wish her
snaked retinas; curled in the armchair, glaring
and modeling the thigh-high
stockings I stole
especially for her.
for S.W., T.D., and C.W.