(an exquisite corpse written with kaitydavie in the Melrose Diner, Philly, august 2014;
I start this one.)


This odd & bloodless bed —

Look, through that fabled looking glass.

My feet cut on coral,
a sandy wound but I

Doo-wop on the radio,
the rivets of your skin on my

I attend church on the
59th-St Bridge after midnight.

I want you to wreck me

Every morning, the same cups,
the same sun, a window but

its worth it, this moment of pause. Take
a breath, throw up a prayer. Show me
the vertebrae in your spine.

I am made new again in
a glass of delayer with lemon
and your scent on my pillow.

Eye contact / breath. 
Bitten lips / breath. 
The heaviest of sighs, the
loveliest of longing.

A list maker when nights
are longer than they need to be,
she is consoled on paper.

A reminder about mirrors,
a call for your truths.

A spine against a wall can
mean one of three things:

Darlin, darlin, darlin —
It is more than all this.

I have been just a warm body, 
but had more often sought
for myself.

Play me your siren song. 
Show me the depths. 
My story was never anything
more than a gross gauge
on a rock.