FROM FAR AWAY

she digs the heel of her foot deep
in the space between her thighs.
she finds places where moments collect.
mindful.
involuntarily retrieved.
she catches her breath.

she likes it when she bleeds.
anticipates the arrival.
counts the days.
admires the exactness of her body.

sanguine voices fall from her sex.
anemic aspirations.
she laughs.
violets spill from her mouth.
deep purple stuck to pale lips.
no one wants to talk about it.
“can we not talk about that right now?”
lay her down.
shut her up.
his mouth over hers.
there is sweet talk
and more
questions.
her voice suspended.
she bleeding.

a Mayan shaman once told her that she was a witch
because she bleeds with the full moon.
she thinks about magic.
he takes her magic.
her strength
stolen.
he holds her heart with a white-gloved hand.
stained.
he commands.
she reveals.
appear.
disappear.
saw her in half.
pull things out of her.

he plays tricks on her
from far away.
find your way.
he has his way
with her
away from her.
he keeps
others
a part.
distances.
phantom rest areas.
sleep deprived
wonderlands.

so, she bleeds early.
all that pushing and prodding
next to and on top of
underneath

here

there

gone.

whispering                emptiness.


THE PLASTER SIREN

the plaster siren sleeps indigo 
and the man of war really is afraid of the dark  
eyes held   fixed to see into night 
a struggle to form  desire’s shadow  
the rain  on split pavement
shiny wounds  
touch takes in imperfections

ruins

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