there’s this girl I killed
dancing in black panties
and a long billowing redress,
the hallway closing in on her,
inches from her bare breasts
speckled with black marks, charred
from spare matches when she conflated
masochism with trust
before I even came along.

uncloaked sterility,
virescent mass growing from her ribs:
a toxic moss that threatened the whole garden
every time she hoped
her wounds were a sadist to hold.
her eyes fall on me once more
like heavy snow,
early May,

when she throws it out,
it sticks too long,
knives for tonsils
when she disrobes,
she is blamed for madness,
lunar cycles ripping death from her insides.
when she sings
and stings with a ferocious sadness
it cuts, and she should have grown tulips
shaped like daughters
and watered them,
she filed her nails instead.
she slashes like a god
on fire
begging to be touched with bare hands
one last time.

each time she smiles
–gnashing teeth & dancing–
it’s truly unforgivable to watch the dead
find peace.
twirls in that place,
that grave she begged for.
to get what you want and lose.
to get hung.
her cervix is a bleak garden
poisoned by words
I never say;
she pours it out suddenly
with lasting impact
like spring blizzards
killing every growth I haven’t;
when she cries
like a baby’s first gasp
she goes:
it’s about me
with an unwavering certainty that you understand,
she faced a mirror her whole life
to study how to talk to life.
a hole in her belly with the wind whistling through;
alone & all sorts of wrong,
I am with her & all sorts of gone,
all sorts of turbulence in that space
she licks her lips & states:
sobriety taught me how to slink to fit
into the crawl spaces of depravity
& I am on the brink
of fitting inside each one of those cavities

stay with me.

there’s this girl I killed,
the blossoms are stained with black snow,
everyone is celebrating a resurrection of water.
she is thirsty too
you’re too small for that basin
she’s sunk
you’re big like feeling lost
evaporated & coming back to box,
she’s raining like God
crying for more Sisyphean sacrifice
to prove her might to no one,
a storm of a kind that wears the equator,
how she bore the world on her spine.
there’s a crack in the world tonight
and  I
have opened it.

and she learned
how to disappear completely.



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