National Poetry Month 2021

in extremes and extremities, we push softly into the night 

in youth, —we vacate our bodies

an exorcism to rid our authenticity, dragged by the hair

into the sunken jaw of whatever brought us there, it is sex that 

creates another and another and another, no one is empty if they can propagate

night crawls on our skin, and we jump from high balconies, limping

into the arms of a crazed lover, who sedates with promises and darting eyeballs

and you take him into your cleavage and lose him in there, 

hoping he’ll come back with pieces of you 

when he exhales