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she unfolded like a sculpture
on the couch
tangled up in telephone lines
I peeked from under my hood

like that train crash
she was never part of
or the time her soup
was too hot
she took my lips
in her hands
and formed little
sighs of discomfort

Pray for the man in LA
Pray for the man in New Orleans
Pray for the man in Boston

he rolled upright
years of years
being a fixture
in dark closets
I peeked from under my hood

sorry, different story

she curled into a ball
all bare skin and hair
exploded inwards
outwards
a mess of ink and whispers

now, that’s right

wait
I’m feeling changed
a little disagreement
I’m feeling changed

I peeked from under my hood