CALAMITY

I reached for my sword

and found it lying in a day’s worth

of sand.

 

✦

 

Every morning, steam blossoms from your mouth

when you sing. I am finished with anger

you tell me—your eyes, two black stones

 

in a puddle of milk.

You reveal yourself story

by story.

 

When you finish telling me

each one, you pull a finger, covered

in chili powder, out of my throat.

 

✦

 

I am finished with anger, you tell me.

Before dinner, I wash my face in your palms:

basil and mint.

 

When you asked me to go it was already

Spring. Your grandfather’s jacket slumped

on a chair in the living room.

 

I swear, your shadow looks at me

when you go quiet—a fish in black water.

When I’m restless, I shadowbox.

 

✦

 

One night, you pointed to the sky

and asked if you could draw me

a moon.

 

I am finished with anger, you tell me.

I take a sip of red wine and press my lips

against your stomach. I swear.

 

✦

 

Red flowers on the piano start to shake

with laughter. My horse darts into the night—

a bright red wound on its hind leg.

 

You ask what I am looking for

in your hands. I tell you, you know

damn well.

 

Like a country that was powerful

long ago, you do not stand up

or look away.

 

✦

 

Once, when your king was drunk,

you stole his robe off his back. Now,

you wear it only when you are alone.

 

Nightingale. Sovereign.

Your horse grazes

from its own shadow.

 

✦

 

You straddle me on the bed,

apply vaseline to my lips

with your index finger.

 

Cracked hoof. Blood kiss.

You stroke my chin, open my mouth

like a wound. I throw

 

my head back.

You pull a sword out of me

like a promise.