It was the screaming that drew me
ripping raw as sex up the trumpet of my throat
and I tucked my innocence like wax to cradle into white forsaken
crescents behind my ears that have never felt the yellow heat
of sky even for a moment, because I could scream
In the night when I had again pledged my soul like trousseau linen
in a word basket to our lord and savior amen I used to dream
I could scream and my hands would rake the air like ploughs
like a kitten at a curtain just at dawn but what is a scream to
ears unbaptized by any more than decibel docility
I sprouted hips when I learned what it was to be witch and bled sounds
I’d only ever read, a whole new vocabulary flowering red in my
limbs flailing I knew suddenly rave and dance and fury
expelled every last vowel of restraint to lodge the new
elliptical breath of rage, I found craze and swallowed her whole
When the fire comes I’ll let him have his turn, burn mortality
soot onto their spectacle-smooth browskin as they watch
me drown in ways they never will because they will not learn to swim,
have lost liquidity to their iron bones shelved tight into a Bible
that knows no breezes, freezes faster than I could confess.
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