from the archives

the beginning


your tongue polished me
in the cemetery, there was rain pausing
above our heads for accentuation, then the cocoon.
you asked me what do you want to be
when you get out?
i needed to be an airplane

everyone was following, the moon
rose weakly, nobody worked,
i will steal your ideas--

the way you make something of me:
milk pours over the grain like a mother washing her child
so we only hear melodies, despite the workload

and that mess is ours, it wasn't planned
but we like it there because the sun enables earth
from beneath our eyelids,
i see you,
it is you
playing my hair as a harp

guilt is merely an arrow
pointing backwards,
we've moved continents
and poured oceans
down the
drain.





transgression


the pavement wears marks like a pirate
and takes memories of the times
our mothers put hands on our foreheads
searching for fever

embers devour us and grow
our vision emulsifies, skin and hair slick  
with dissolved minerals and dirt, chills roll 
up and down our backs like windshield wipers

you ask me to lie next to you
but not to touch you, a million mosquitoes
spill through the floor, covering our bodies

there is always permission to enter  
the in-between, you can survive
with your name

my bones crack
into powder,  

i am all that remains of the Egyptian pyramids