1243

thirteen
red lights
and a cursing pinwheel
you had an exam light in your teeth
bending over
a fleshy body in the dining room

washing blood off yourself
you told me
“I don’t feel right”
but the water
reflected the lights
so I missed your words
focused on your stomach
your legs
and arms streaked with red

on the job
I changed my name to yours
so somebody would still be
talking about you
so I could still hear
your name

you got into an argument with
the mirror
asked who was the bad dream
who was the old lady
well
I handed you my hand
and I know now it wasn’t the salve
but you put it between your teeth
bit down

I played you a song on guitar
with my bleeding thumbs
and you asked why I was so morbid
I told you a moth landed
on my tongue
and you weren’t there to
tear it off

then slow dance outside