queen of hearts
you taught me how to open my lips sober
but you let the grass slice your tongue
to make me smile. you have no claim to rationality,
only a better speaking style.
I kissed roses and ignored your letters,
I was a bastard, I wanted to dwell in the blank
half-page after the end of a chapter. the creamy reflections.
you sent the queen of hearts in the mail
which i placed in my wallet instead of a picture
because your face never secured a place in my dreams.
you tugged at my navel, i wanted the small of your back
forever. the texts never penetrated my narration.
too literary to live. i never wrote you a poem.
on purpose, because my ache was always intellectual.
no translation necessary. we needed to fight
but instead I was vitamin numb and water cold
my guilty paper cuts until finally, finally
I could hate you, just a little bit.
you drew charts and wrote lists
to file us away as a learning experience
you have a talent for losing your way
i have a talent for avoiding intuition
i hope you tracked every lost mile,
because i could trace the contours of your breast
but not remember any moment that you treasured
before the open kitchen, with its soap and hysteria.Posted in BAM Bank, truth