Can you do an aerial with your tongue? A front flip into a tuck-and-roll
with your uvula, so the words stick their finish, clink their knobby knees
shuddering to fit the silhouette left behind by a body hugging the air? Can you say bi-sexx-choo-al?
won't fill my gauntlet with anything other than what's organic goodness, what flavor is vegan altruism, how long do you gnaw on a tooth before it chinks the armor? and the syllables shark at your gums
what's i according to you, her and them, who know more about i than me do – bludgeon-sharp intellect
you could shine your brain against your elbow until even in the grease
a lie can stand on its two feet and not fall victim to slip-up
toss its chorus over the shoulder at the jury, no objection:
all homosexuals go to hell. the judge hems and haws, but the gavel replaces the bone in his hand, retracts into the web of his palm.
I've been a hellion. I've been consort to a criminal: charged in possession of the bluest eyes that ever did blue-eye, handcuffs looped over ring fingers at the alter
–for this i go free
the other, i balance on my shoulder
a veil made completely out of brick
flicking idly the cement off the dress train
so the descent is so much more like sinking
the skeleton hand of conversation so much like the grasp of quicksand
i could close my eyes and knock a shot back into the underearth, had i only the one who drinks with me. we do it all the time, some of the time, like a party trick–
pop a coin out of my cheek.
