hands / wrists / teeth
i. hands
faux bones, the simmering touch
glazed fingertips and how intimate
burying the memorabilia of your
lover is;
pale moonlight, pale breathless
words, pale serene gazes.
ii. wrists
rose oil and peppermint on the
sleek joint, rounded edges
the kind that breaks glass
ceilings, and houses ghostly
whispers of the old days,
day breaks, heartaches.
iii. teeth
crook of the mouth; leaden
tongue, would you presume
to cease the crass bullet words?
pearl sheen in opulent crevices
lips of a monarch. there nothing
more deserving than death
for those who stay s i l e n t
in times of moral
calamities.