Temporary Tattoos
she had
the dressings of a savior—
x’s on her hands
and swept preschool floors
for hips
I saw expensive trips
for feet
the second coming
for eyes
and polite sparrows in her chest
saying without song
i could not fix what wasn’t broken
but like all good masochists know
one clean break leads to another
what if just as easily as god painted her ash
i could incite lava flows
within fault lines
would she call it a disaster
if we ruined our mountain sides
they’re already black with
ink buried skin
without martyr or meaning
there is
no crucifix in her diction
no suture scars in sight
a boring deity
in a house of sinners
that would dangle honest sex
on a lit fuse
i’ve decided
i’m willing to loosen
the noose of morality
as long as i see
some fireworks
and even though i savor the idea of you
stretched over an anvil
and myself
with a warrior’s mouth
and barbed vocal wire
coaxing front lines from your neck
and collarbone cliffs
I can’t pretend I don’t see
the white flags
under your tongue
after all
you were the grinning tail-gunner
on my runaway stretcher
you tossed my crutches
and found me ladders to lean on instead
broke my arms a second time
and tied them to rowboat oars
before whispering in my ear
tsunami’s are just waves you haven’t crashed yet
so I swallowed hard and looked to the sky
knowing light travels slowly
in relation to the distances of space
and her smile
I hoped to find Galileo’s reflection on the cheek of Polaris
so I could know the face a man makes
when he knows he isn’t lost
that night I swallowed compass needles
and spit out tiny satellites
gave the balloons directions for orbit
and swallowed a fistful of gravestones
so I could stay grounded in space
I found elbow room in the pantheon
before falling
my ribs gripping a breath of stratosphere
like a mother’s hand
I hit the ground with sky under my tongue
and thunder in my steps
ready for the sun
the bed said keep sleeping
but I didn’t believe him
and this whole time
while she was gutting the thrust
from my run-of-the-mill
helen of troy
“i’d cross these oceans and dissect my heel”
kind of coy
there was never a single moment
where I didn’t feel the cold kiss
of her stethoscope
kissing my chest
to make sure i was still beating
and blanketing the blueprints
for new ink across steel sternums
hoping one day
I can fix this shit on my own
but today…
she is shining.
i am smiling
and after 3 weeks
of cadaver auditions,
i am moving
and i will walk to 39th and 9th
until there is no city to speak of
even if it means
I am only visiting
a friend
