Girl. Song to the dead,
You draw me like a bow across your body and I,
Quarted, throw caution off a high rise.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Can’t talk right now, need to give caution mouth to mouth,
Regress and devolve. Fear makes my breast sing. How do I do violence?
—by thought—Play on. On sewing my neck with guitar strings.
And what if? We alternate at resonance frequencies—
What if, what if, Girl, play on. Don’t leave me, leave me,
get the hell away Caution fills my mouth, its tongue heavy,
Restrained against my teeth, this limp body of
my Fear and I have sex on the sidewalk. What’s it like?
Living, unlearning, learning, reliving kissing Fear good mourning,
Good morning. Your notes are quartered in desolation,
They spoon feed me desire. I don’t deserve you,
More, to be embodied, more to be capable of harm, because I am,
(More than capable: I think therefore I am, I do), I do—
Song to the dead. Girl.
Like a bow across your body, drawing me. To light.
To life,
To Fear; handcuffing my restraint,
shuddering in my teeth under your eyes my mind can do everything / nothing
But become nothing, nobody, no body, dipped in vastness, dissolving in limbs, to remove your arm from its socket, ignore the calling thought (thought)? or end the sunk cost of my body play on its climax through the noose to pin you down and rape (thought)—
Girl. Put your bow,
needle to my neck,
Put me down.
Before I do the unthinkable think the undoable live the unsayable say the unlivable—
Hang me sweetly,
In the dark.
