aging
then her bones were
all about escape
untied choked without
clever marrow
bloated and unseemly
drinking in
a thing or two
the fiction that follows
each truthful denial
a misdirection
that craven fear of words
stoked by inflection
bigger than she
revealing the personal
angry in place
cross-eyed kittens she cries
it is time to get drowned
a moment before
she laughs out loud
when her teeth collapse
those mad fucking dancers
free with the questions
done as well with the answers
she takes stock of herself
fakes shedding a tear
it’s like fucking Gray Gardens in here
she is literally downed
by the park of reminders
wanting isn’t always doing nothing
hanging never solved a problem
crosses come and go in tandem
when her bones are all
about escape
untied and without
clever marrow
she will climb the cross again
quietened no doubt
by discomfort from the razor’s edge
she will climb the cross again
she will no longer pledge.
She will climb the cross again
waving from the edge.
