We made love in the kitchen, dinner cooked
In the stove, and then burned in the stove.
I don’t recall what the third mouth was doing
As her first mouth kissed me and the second mouth
Talked and inhaled and talked and exhaled.
she plays dumb, prefers the old school dumpster meeting in silence. Or the local Pentecostal bad boy and his one-hour evening advice sessions. Or playing dutiful daughter, Or playing tad dumb.
Both will be stuck with the tab at the end of the night.
I’ve been the lawyer, so sure that I can argue down
disdain; the doctor, trying to heal the broken at all costs.
Nobody wants to drink alone, but everyone does.
My second sleep, where red, white and blue are burning,
the ashes gleaning and glinting as they die.
I wake to the carmine rays of dawn
and fall asleep to the sound of fireworks outside.
I cradle the ivory dove in its mourning,
whispering, “Am I alive? Am I alive?”
a starless, smothering blanket of beastly odour.
Pinned down, your mind sifts and sifts through
the shock swiftly, recalling the ranger’s warning:
it always goes for your face, cover it with your hands,
curve your body into a C, and be still;