fear like running water


“What are you afraid of?” she asks

clicks her pen – once, twice
and I think of gunshots,
a burning barrel pressed against my neck
as hot as his lips along my sweat-slick skin.
we're lovers betrayed; life sold us out
but her eyes hold steady
as we finish what we begun eons ago.
my sister death and the twin, rebirth

now in intervals: places I’ve never been, people
I’ve never killed; tangents
and ghosts. their souls are mine
and I think
and I drink
and I sink

the sea is salty, too much vinegar in the dish,
a red-haired woman calls me home
from the endless waters
of a green-grey grasping flood
but there is no point in color here, only death
and a ring lost to the deep blue sea

sweet tea sipped, watching, watching –
waiting as the skies faded towards rolling hills,
beautiful and lush like her skin
before I’m told love is just a cage; I’m best without it
so I’m left alone
as she loves me
but he wants me
and I hate you

we built a home, dull and hollow;
my womb remains decayed, take your white picket fence away.
then there are torches outside, a mob in the night
so eager to fright with my dark eyes
and crude ways,
a sabbath for the undying

but it all comes crumbling down:
the brownstone home and it’s babbling brook,
the idyllic glen of the idyllic dream
too good to be real, too bad to see it sealed.
one step, three step, my sister is calling,
wake up

I take a harsh breath
Open my eyes –
“Everything,” I say.

The End

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