spent of fuel, they detach and fall away
—Brian Ross, “Perigee”
your hurt is a story
you tell without opening
your mouth.
look at yourself
how you tell it
so often too much to anyone,
how your neck
blooms open &
your shoulders
weep in any kind of place—
a night city sidewalk.
a train. a warm-
lit bedroom full
with your own name.
when your assailants, in bits,
are lodged
in your bones
& teeth & you chew
on them daily
the one you want
to love can know
how to escape you
by entering
your mouth.
how can anyone fall
for a face
telling secrets
no one wishes
to know?
& strangers
smirking
at your wrists
letting go
in pools
grumbling
at how you
breathe, over &
over again
i don’t know how to be kept
you spill. &
you tell this story
so often
you open
your mouth
without ever
being asked
Joy, I loved your poem. So much is said without saying a thing. Broken is what comes to mind.