... elongates handle bars
across my rage
doubting myself is what I do best
believe less
in self
in the realm of water
under bridges
what the fuck is one to think
when sandbags
pile suicidal over the need to breathe
fish are not trustworthy
I am not equipped
emotionally
to deal with a cat
or anything that loves without scratching
give me cats that tear at me
flesh all through the dark
when I am away from myself
it hurts me
doubt and anger
rolled spicy into contingency plans
and your voice was more certain
than I believed
but I tried anyway
to hold all the truths as evidence
that we could do this again
or even if we don't
friendship is what this is really about
time and distance
marks me victim/punch me here
because I am here
lift me holy
and call me God
or angel dust disappearing
just after the high call of day
daytime is easy
what with the cafe
the salt scent of what I refuse to call tears
printing solitary
neon screams on my sheets
you have never seen these sheets
softer than the ones we tumbled through
in Chicago
or Far Rockaway
a far time away
we were tiny then
small now
I feel smaller in my heart
my hands less capable
now that breaking has splintered them so
how can I love you
without knowing
how to crawl whole through something
as tentative as night
banal
I don't sleep
until I am forced to sleep for days
to recover
such a boring thing
to count the hours
Virginia
you are not Virginia
everyone says
I know
I am not
Virginia not Plath
not anything but this pale peering
of land over troubled water
under bridges refusing to rise
pretty is the pinkest parts of me
convulsing
fruit semaphoring in
London
Auckland
Goteborg
apply for Visas
that trap me immigrant
behind one border or the other
you sound like me
you know
and can I tell you
how I love your hands grown knowing
gentle
with the splintering of the memory between that last
and now
dawn is a mere heart
beat away
a woman I once thought I loved
once
beat me so bad
my heart did not flutter
in response
for years I held her responsible
for what I allowed her to do
standing there
I gave her ink to brand me as broken
banji bitch
she called me
ain't got no home
never seen Nina Simone in Concert
but I know her
night-time the right time
for just reminiscing you might find
kissing works for you
but I'm the kind of girl who will take what the dark dishes
near misses and shooting stars
kill the dancing of ordinary people
all the time
we hope there are survivors
of the blank
bullet pressing surprised against the open wound
who would have thought it would hurt
like that
all the way through
who would have thought
that
drunk on the memories
the shame of a wet shower after the slurred confession
how it inked me
as human
skewed to the cracked glass
pretending paper-cuts
are the same as slices intended by a shards of ache
who would have thought that splinter
could do that much
harm
friendship is the reason I have pulled myself
from the bog of these insinscere smiles
these teeth baring fangs
and forks
and fucks we never had
three times you shall deny me
Peter
three times
before the cock crows
and you will be ashamed
maybe
but what are the roosters to do
after the Romans have taken their Savior
whatever shall the chickens do now that
they can see me
shackled
and silently paying penance
for not being the messiah
crucifixion self imposed
God is the reason
we do not believe in Hell
Heaven is inside the path of a breath
you know
I need not repeat
no need to tell you
nothing makes you
more in my eyes
you cannot be more
than the sum of an eternity
pressed painting across
the cielo azul of my most impossible
hopes
let us talk of everything but
what dreams may or may not
come
more knuckles
than walls tonight,
Staceyann