Salvatrice, the Iconoclast

Lovely mute loose from her bruiser brute

Like a young child who cannot recite her address,

I sip slow poison


Across the rathskeller,

Incorporeal paws claw at the bodice of my dress,

The charnel house of our cherished hours


The band’s subway train has been delayed;

(A man left an empty water bottle on the seat before dragging his feet home.

We hope it’s not a bomb) silence waltzes through the room


In a banquette, I see the bend in your knee and in your nose

A gargoyle waiting for the right time of night to strike

When other swing-dancing couples have festooned themselves half-drunken and merry

across city streets


Then we are like two stray animals in a cardboard box

The last drops of painted pill alcohol stretch themselves down my throat, accomplices of your


Upon their breach of my brain, you reach for my wrist


We depart, myself on tottering tiptoe, you- identifiable thief of carnelian in the white night


Reluctant palms pushed up against the apartment’s peeling paint

Carnivorous breaths howling down my neck

And afterwards, always the same silicone apology


If only I hadn’t lost God between cracks of a wall

(A snake slipping- slithering through my fingers)  

I would wash away pieces of you from my sheets

Whenever I put them through the laundry


I would-


Or make you drive for hours to reclaim your sentences!


but instead I find myself, the romantic amnesiac

climbing out of the silent rainforest.

coming home to the soft moss of your skin.

to breathe crisp morning back into your lungs.




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