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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