She
Published in
1 min readMay 4, 2017
for Heath
Concerned with surface; the ingenuity would raise Athena in you; walking a soft murmur along the sofa where sex chairs the hitch of feminine girth to the good of men. Yet, she wears surrogacy like fatherhood.
She would catch his slow waking until the emptiness cramps inwards and shoves us out sideways; filled-in the hiding. Born of letters and of love never learned. The pluck of mind to the mannerism of flesh and bone.
Heart to the marrow, lined and culled by diction in unearthly registers wrapped to the count of three; in sheets and sheaths of tulle. A woman of letters in a Teasdale mirror.
Ripe refrigeration, dragged from bare hands, her mind resumes his body-boundary . . .
Cul de sac.
from “Bedroom Box”, 2010
