JBWC SHOWCASE Chapbook 2020

UNTITLED 2
Waiting for an undoing not of my own accord
To be cut down by a hand I don’t know but have held many times
by rocks who hold an unwavering gaze to waters crashing below
A stranger to yearn for my approval like a pearl
cut from the oysters we’ve enjoyed on dinner dates while
sitting chest to chest, soaking up the entirety of the other’s being
At night we’ll dance in the ballroom, set fire to the oceans in our stomach
When fatigue creeps in, our moves grow tiresome
We’ll lie in bed once again chest to chest
under soft pale pillows and warm blankets
I will make the mistake of whispering in their ear trials of my past
Pieces of me to be destroyed when set in the wrong hands
And they’ll do the same, misguided, ritualistic youth
We’ll engage in blood sacrifice, without a thought of pathogens
Leaking together, palm to palm
So confident in the mystery lying next to us that
we forget what it’s like to not bare a soul
Naive to the flames of passion dying as bed grows cold
When we’re apart in totality
we’ll carry the blood spilled that night as a reminder of what’s to come
Alone again, now aware it’s the only way to be
Like the tree we’ll never know to have fallen or not
my transformations mean nothing without a witness
Til I reach the point where I can dance with a newcomer
my baggage will be mine alone
All I’ve suffered won’t be wrapped up neatly in a sonnet
No warm bodies can bear their share of pain
I walk in solitude, deciding everyday who will see my cold blood
Cloaked figures of the night who know nothing
that decide they’d like to feel the pain of foreign hands once again
And I do too