toe stomping lit cigarette regenerating like the woman i suppose i am stumbling all over myself fucking up absorbing ink wanting to split open deliver unhinge hatch. it's almost like breathing.
enter june. the girl came early said she wanted to puncture the sky, reach up into nothing & sketch eyelids onto the dreaming. said she wanted to watch six tiny stars explode on her thigh, gussy them up in homespun dresses and then sit back and stare as they twirled in their tatters. she said she put it there. between her legs. fed it. says she will choose when to let go of the scream.
in the beginning, i kept watch while you came down beautifully. always, always with amniotic glow & star quake & shine & sudden introduction to light. we wore our hallelujah dresses three days in a row. hair undone. I held my breath & your hand underneath my elbow just in case.
1997. i wrote the boy a poem little girl lettler style thinking that my insides might appear intricate splattered on white & lined. he said i had a thing for telling stories for taking something plain & making it beautiful. dressing it up in color & frills the way that only a girl can. he said he loved me. he didn't. he left in search of something more than everything i was.
toe stomping lit cigarette reaching inside uncovering regenerating like the girl i've always been fucking up believing
it's almost like being. |