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Disclosure
Piecing together
the museum dream
blood stained papers
the modern art and the cripples
you are a man
without legs
you are faceless
and unborn
drooling in your wheelchair
4 am
you shut the light
and I start to divide
4 am
no memory
of the massacres
in a wastebasket
used condoms, rusty tampons
I need my cosmetics
my pocketbook
I am fighting
for the mirror
as you wait
outside the door
What do I have
to say to you
(read this, read this)
when we talk
it is mutilation
it is one-sided
distorted radio
I am painting
my lips
bruising my knees
slitting the throats
of pigeons
screaming the voodoo
that doesn't belong to me
screaming the voodoo
that is against me
I have a prickly heart
but I am civilized
in the open
I button up my dress
cover my shoulders
and hold your arm
in the street
No one knows
my history
Waking up
from the suffocation dream
it was your body
that was breathing
and my body
that seemed accidental
no one would miss it
fifteen, fifteen
and in love
with my pain again
you laugh at my razor blades
and then you ask me
for my wrist
I am mourning
for my windows
this life
is expensive
and I cannot
have enough
Speaking through
the dream
of lying in a strange bed
with you
the war is 30 years dead
the refugees
have PhD's
and we are too late
to save them
but we are serious
clutching our bibles
in the wild
and you are blessing me
by the light of the television
as if nothing dies
and every godless soul
is a true believer
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