Paisley bruise on her shoulder, same astonished green
snaking behind her pupils. Limbs adorned
with fresh welts of ink. I kiss her smudged
mouth & sludge-lined eyelids—without her
narcotic sweat, her voodoo breath breathing
down my neck, how did I survive? She
ushers me into her boudoir, steals my soul
as collateral. I feel as if I’m falling—she
pushes me below the waterline. She moves
the hair from my face—this is why I dis-
appeared—she slaps my face with her
mouth—this is why I’ve returned—she
examines my eyes—this the reason I left in
the first place. Then my she-devil hikes up
her leg—drags out her bow—extracts a
crucial song—punish- & replenishment,
again & again from the small body of her
lovesick violin.
+ + +
Abraded Hour Above the Laundromat
With a crumpled washcloth that smelled
like the ozone I washed my armpits. Paper
chain of bruises where you held onto me
like I was gravity. Would it always be like
this? Steam & starch, the feral hiss of the
machines as they pressed, breathed clean
empty gowns, empty coats. I spit clean the
smudges underscoring my iron-blue
scorched YES eyes.
+ + +
Signature Heat
Arms pinned, slumber-warm sheets.
Breathed my hair in, my clavicle, inhaled
the lair of my epidermis. Tongue charmed
armpit. Axilla, attar of: zodiac & mink;
souring milk; indigenous root, dark
bedrock, & copper. Underarm: beds of
pheromone, glands. Calendula voodoo.
Your tongue lands in the interior of my
shoulder; pocket of forested skin, muscles,
ball & socket. Were we any more animal,
arousing sun to shed her oily husks, we’d
know each other only by trail of musk.
Any affection likewise: an act of primal
spot & recognition. You suckle the hollow.
We find ourselves in the gut of the quarry.
Animal drawn, come to lap from a starry
shallow puddle, private trough. Before you
turn upon me, wild released one.
