When the earth rights itself again,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
It is your juice
Going someplace.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
No keys exist.
Those behinds,
See them. Men are always
Young men sharp as mustard.
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
Stand and watch.
Years old and starving for them.
Air disappears,
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
One day they hold you in the
Smile thatslides around the fear. When the
Watch behind the curtains
Then the window draws full upon
When I was young, I used to
Knowing something.
Maybe.
They tighten up. Just alittle. The
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Breasts of a young girl,
Men.
Jacket tails slapping over
Going somewhere.
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
But this time, I will simply
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
They knew I was there. Fifteen
