I clipped the grace of his butterflies,
torturing the wretched fragments
as they fluttered to the dirt,
watching in morbid satisfaction as their souls convulsed
against the goosebumps between my toes.
[Last night, he broke me
and measured how my body shook
to uneven beats of a 1988 demigod]
The shock made their antennae glow
and I swear to God I felt it--
somewhere in the synapse between the blue-
green veins protruding from my wrist
and the silver bangles that rattle when I speak,
(I begged, but he wouldn’t let it stop).
This morning I laid their underappreciated corpses to rest,
covering the distortions in their microscopic faces with rocks,
garnishing the shallow graves with the skin he left under my fingernails
Their lifeless bodies created a mosaic of devastation
against the decaying walls of sidewalk cracks
and their insignificant sins slithered across the concrete...
...I’ll admit, I lost myself to Egyptian cotton;
to the way his tongue salivated self-destruction;
to the aroma of unprecedented candy-
coated emotion on his breath.
[I let him mutilate my throat with rotten sugarcane.
I gave him my God and he swallowed Her whole.]
With his palms pressed hard against the runs in my stockings,
I let him burn the New York skyline alive,
and took careful note of the way
my crying made his body convulse.