for April
The way you do it,
they whisper thickly,
is you thread her heart’s starlit thrum
past her ribs and pull it out through her eyes
like spun light.
Don’t fret when it
falters. Persist. You’ll
know you have it all
when she flickers, dims, and finally
succumbs to numbness.
This, they insist, is Love. It hides
in Violence. Scrambled.
Slashing with its tapered blade and staring through
a stolen eye. It stabs at cracked knuckles
and buckled plaster.
Lies, lies, i croon to
my misanthropic goddesses. My insistence is a
serpent’s hiss, but my face is
an empty moon, reflecting nothing.
Meanwhile,
in another room, another
world, you whisper too. Lies. Lies.
You kiss the collarbones of your frozen, broken
heroes as you lift your fingers and watch them
burn and rise.
When we finally find
each other, we turn shy eyes to the kindred seams
in our skins, scraps of self stitched
together to keep
out the sun.
i say: sometimes, it takes an
apocalypse. i’ll rip a thousand worlds from orbit
to eclipse the lies. To watch
the truth of you blaze radiant with the fire of
Creation. i swear.
You ask: where are
the four horsemen? Your
eyes search the horizon and
you nod. i see that you already
know the Truth.
i say it anyway. A real
Armageddon only needs
one. i look deep
in your eyes. See? Here
she comes now, riding her
Dragon.
