Sunday, January 10, 2016

These are not fighting words

A man in a black top hat with a faceless
face asks me if I want to look

into the eyes of a dying whale    in the background
of his question the puppies cry for me

to hold them   they can no longer remember
their mother I peel lipskin with my two

front teeth with space between them
they used to say was a sign a woman was easy

I break too easily this just-begun
day I don't want to hurt before noon

It is 11   I know the whale eyes will hurt-teach
me about surrender the back of my throat makes

clicking sounds like it knows what I don't
like it is hungry but I do know how

to place my hand inside a glove    finger
by finger I know how to make you feel

wanted    it is a good thing
to start by touching your skin

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