Cut my jaw with your lip, burn me with your blessed touch. Poison me with that silver tongue o’ yours, good God, preach to me your sweet loving.
Drip your name into my mouth, and I’ll swallow it all.



-

when i say
“i want you to come home”
i’m talking to the woman
i was always expected to be

i don’t miss her and
i don’t love her
but she would make it
a little less messy.

i am one of my own
what has been decided for me
and yet what i cannot be
if only because i cannot be it right

becoming a scavenger,
i pick apart what remains
from the carcass of femininity
clawing and ripping and tearing
and taking from gender
whatever i desire
for what has gender done for me?
aside from putting on a collar
and controlling my every move
deciding what i do
and how and when and why i do it

stealing what i can
and turning it upside down
looking starlit and airy
while still solid with rage
and being oh so tender with her
and protective from the rest
raccoon eyes and evening gowns
leather boots and lace socks