The Seamstress.

the girl, call her Vrai
took fistfuls of hair and flesh
and wove for herself a brilliant
tunic with his silver, with his
pale sweet. To lasting! she wore it down
crowded streets singing, which she does not,
of how bright the day and quiet the night,
and finally to feel a pulse.
and finally nothing but yes.
yes.

people wondered over the life
within her step and also for the tunic
that seemed to wriggle still, captive
and upon her breast.

(2008)

Rx

she pulls up
belly flush, demands of
suspenders and
pin-stripes,
some young man,
Remembrance!
she cries and sounds
already messy,
but isn’t.

her request,
in a tall glass
yellow with foamy halos, make
me know again,
with a side car,
his hands on my hips and thighs.

the bar man pours–
leaves her to
trace a dark figure
strolling, already gone
down steamy streets
lined magnolia trees,
dusk,
sounds only
the scamper of roaches.

(2008)

Two Bodies One White.

the Doctor begins to peel back
a portion of his and then hers
with the #11 scalpel
but its hard to tell where
she begins, and he
also.

Dr. places the particles in a dish
with plans to show them, now separates,
this,
when they awake from deep–
a place where light shines
clearly on both cheeks.

this is how you were once
the other, and never will be
again, He says, as her eyes blink to day
and his, wrinkle towards a shinning
lamp.

(2008)