L I P S T I C K & O T H E R S E R V I T U D E S
A crooked wind-shaped tree
entangled roots that reach out to touch
the pain in you she can see.
She’s the bird you swallowed
that lives in your heart
so tender and loving
it tore you apart. She’s the wings that you grew
which took you and flew
to places, you dreamed to see.
She is bloodied and broken
a home of unspoken stones
that stick in your shoe.
She is bed socks and dominoes
quiet nights and monotones.
The eddying of sleep and thoughts that creep
over mountain and moor and glen.
An astronomical collision. Star-fall and star-dust,
dark and night. The first incision, the last excision.
Prayer, pain, and fright. She is hope stretched wide like your arms,
dreams spread like a bedsheet.
She is feeble and strong
but loud with song
she delights in the earth as she moves. Moves through you like rain,
no shame, no shame
that she moves like clouds through rain.
She is necessary. She is you. She is life.
She is a knife that can cut you from boredom.
She is a knife that can cut you.