Cat on a Dirt Shoulder Cries to Me, in Pain


I write until my
fingers bleed,
or drip myself onto you,
the page, the mirror.
Kisses in the corners and then a
ruined quilt, flipped thrice, blood
staining through. Brown
sugar in a wound,
torn pink flesh. A
waterfall, but not.
So I paint you, hum
behind your back, blow kisses to
the sky and hope
they find your face.
Rug burn on the
back, the shoulder
blades, pain in my breasts,
blood in a
mouth; yours and mine.
So away we float, forehead bent
to the ground and
hips pulled to the
heavens, the curve of a
broken spine. Drag me to
the forest and let me go.
Let me go.

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