The corridor was winged in a skin of headlights the r lingering eerie I stood on the back of his horse and had no daddy lethal pattern and overcoming the black that dies of a broken heart to be the girl who departs gleeful full hearted coded in her own leverage not watching Sharp Objects not carrying them after midnight through remembered air spectrum is not a cable company someday and I caught Ray Charles shaving in a brutal dark on Christmas and asked him about his wrist clasping habit did it remind him of shackles pulses pussy didn’t mean it when I said it aloud but I mean it now this is love this is what love looks like to Maafa this is the soft blot of yellow doctored out of public satisfaction this is exactly
How she needs to be loved by a blind black man shaving in total darkness and also flying over a streetlamp a lark dandy mandingo heathen who can sing I mean really sing
And keeps naming me after my most delicate bones can feel my name in my form
Absolving all that killer guilt
Rescinding all that hilltop hilltop hilltop where the air skims the skin like razors and she can feel him limping in the damp of field or palming a rancid sunrise as if there was no machine touching no debut kissing its blood in a rubber Las Vegas
