Sunday

Wake up
And think 
     I don’t even smell you
It doesn’t make me nervous
If anything, I’m restless
I get up and go pole dance
     ChurchDay
I lie down on a hill and roll my shirt up
Sun warms an empty belly
     You wanted babies
Go home, roll a joint and try to cry
It isn’t working, smoking by
The fountain, I miss you
     But I’m high
Snapchat a picture to a man
Who fucked me
So I can forget the empty 
     Room. We don’t laugh there
No more.
Staying in my play pretend
     Babe fun here just don’t end
Take somebody home,
     Look, I’m not alone, I am. 

Mars’ Temple

He calls his body temple
I sit and listen,
Because mine’s a battlefield.
Bruised and torn:
     Mars’ Temple.
Blades wiped on creases,
The wild grass of my fields.
Assault walls:
     Dig your holes
Cannons pointed:
     Green eyes open wide.
Build those walls up to the sky
Holes shot with bullets that don’t
     Fly.
Build me up now,
Put a monument,
Call me historic,
Name a cognac after me,
     The greatest battle.
Sip it slowly,
In the winter night.

Landscapes

I have no one to call
I’m just playing them all
And the fear of falling
Became a bit of a thrill
And we climb mountains
Moss-covered and the ones
Of our bodies
And the hills and the valleys
We walk, roll and run into
We burn and rip and destroy
We bite and scratch and uproot
We leave marks
But only one of us cares
And the other one
     I wear the skin of the other
The other one waits

To My Daughter, on Salsa

Dear babygirl
Life
     Sigh
Life is a lot like salsa
If you look at your feet
You’ll stumble
In salsa, the hands tell the feet
What to do
It sounds odd, I know
     But it’s true.
You lock eyes and lower your shoulders
And you’re in the moment
You love him, he’s the world
For a dance and then
     It’s done. 
Trust it and don’t run