About a Girl

 

There were arms at the car park, all broke

And beaten,     words slurred from the lips I needed;

To my ear, she sorted herself, unearthed something:

 

A flashfire of my heart’s desperation, slick to

Touch,             holding the hands of fissure;

My feet beat a tempo              to mend to       ;

 

My heart wrote a poem to read out loud:

 

—a prelude—

 

“I wrote this about a girl,” I said to a room.

 

No shit—tell us another one   ;

Read off the palm of your hand          ;

Sweat down the small of your back    ,

 

Pry it loose from skin, and bone, near

Enough,                       to give up        ,

 

her face and shoulders            ,

 

From stage to muted floor      .

 

And yes—

That’s about a girl too, and

So was the one before.

 

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