Queen of Cups & Four of Wands
dreams invade brutely
they are fully ripened knockings
on bolted portals,
secured by bones of old towers, surging
how do you unfasten, unrip, untie, unpin?
how are you still volunteering yourself to dolor when you have so many other fucked up pleasures to unwrap?
it’s a carnival
eat heavily and eat sloppily
gorge on your own death march
Falling deep into sleep
I am composed of prayers and I am the shushing,
the undone
of what God would have done with me
had I never been—
X out all the pearls that haven’t surfaced yet,
caught between the vertebrae of my happiness and the metacarpals of my thirst
the ones that do spill out of me
burst in small laughter
in small epiphanies inside the right temple
celebrate me
as an antecedent
love me
as the consequence
Notes of a Dirty Young Woman 