plan b

I sit in the in-between
Between earth that is giving
And earth that takes
Somewhere that begets
And begets
Like in the bible
So long ago
A story that minds,
Who are quiet and lonely,
Look to for answers
How does my body sing that song?
No answers are given
But multitudes of names
Who have danced long before us
And that ceased mattering long ago
But for the fact that they created
With only a thought to the
glimmering constellation of their skin

Today’s love-makers are bound up
In Tomorrow
In Other Choices
In Why does their hair grow like that?
In How can I reveal something to this person without giving anything up?

Does romance live?
No
We killed it with a stern cold look
That said
But can you make any money from it?
We killed it for
Dear old mum
Who had a different plan
After that night by Ginger’s pool
Chlorine itching her vagina
For days afterwards
An itch that spoke to her
And said
Come on Darlene
Lay your hands and heads low
Swing low, sweet chariot
For these gates hold
Non- believers
Sinners and saints alike
Can worship here
And none may be delivered

The itch transcended the vagina
Up the small horns of her back
Where her human-ness poked out
Threatening to obstruct your own
It itched up to her shoulder blades
Those angel wings
Cut off for original sin
Nubs wiggling
And saying,
Let me lift this graveyard of yearnings
high.
Let me taste the light
And adorn my skin with it
And when the itch travels back down
to her toes
She wants to whisper,
trying to form the words,
“It came too late for me.”
Deciding she can’t
She curls her humanness
Into absence
The shape of zero
As she cleans the shit off the bathroom floor
Made by a squeaky three year old
Without a shirt
Crying,
“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”