Gore Words (You Can Ask Anyone)

On paper, with bits of bone

and tooth all swirled together

in red clouds of finger-paint;

a touch of palms, of

warmest regards (you can ask anyone),

I swore to myself, under breath:


To sing a song like your throat, as

the hands: as seen through

windows, as streetlight-

passerby, like girls hidden

away in their bulbs, are

fashioned as thus:


Don’t touch my heart—no one

does, you can break elbows

on pavement, split marrow

for meat, gore words read back

to me, and trample, a riot

of blood; but—

my heart isn’t there

(you can ask anyone).


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