Make everything alright
Distorted cannibals in the
sepia justice, interconnected
obligations of women
shred elongated in your
forceful hands,

and I was a woman
long ago, as I am
again, saying:

make
everything
alright-

and there is a
weakness in my
blood, burning as it
is in between floor
boards, and romanticism
and waiting
as I do
for you, despite
the fragile cold -

as it is
hungry
for war

and women
were raped long
before this, hushed
long before this, taken
in long before this,

and I put my hand on
your mouth, hinging
jaw bones shut with
my words; regret
as a threat in the back
of minds full of woe;

and women were
loved in those
longing hours,
where your chin
clefts me at the collar
bone

and home is a garden
greener than elopement,
and I waited
and waited

sharp as a tack;
cutthroat
modern, tripping
over limbs, and pins,
and wombs, and ghosts
seeping into the tile
in the night when the
drains drip as if to speak -

as if to sip
each other dry -

as if we could
feed on each other
long after retreat;
long after we hold siege
and court against each other's
souls;

no good,
I said, no good -

and I speak it now
like gospel, as if
beautiful banishment
might seize a hunger
driven aground from
the swollen basements
of youth, and yonder, I
pointed to your face, shrunk
into the casements of
your body, released myself,

I became
a man

and loved you
as a man might
love a weak woman;

releasing myself again,
rebirth, again, anew

suck the world dry
again; forget to forget
about you, hold you like
a knife inside my body;
wait for you to burn me
alive in a siege of your
choosing,

wait for God to
gloat – as he would,
wait for you to
throw water into my
eyes, lick the wound
clean, wait again.