What were you wearing?
Thirst in the belly. Was it
a ripeness? Too blue
oceans for eyes to hide
the drought in me. A mouth.
How much did you have to drink?
I reached into the darkness
and it reached back. Firewater.
Gasoline. My good, good shame.
Did you know them?
It’s just us, babe. A dry drowning.
All that thirst.
Why did you get in the car with them that night?
Rust on the tongue. Palm
on the nape. A carnival
game. Keep your eye
on the small object. Quick
which cup is it?
Did you say no? Did you fight?
One smelled of snuffed out
matches. One’s skin scrubbed
inside like the pool table lining.
My feet are slashed tires.
One wore my mouth
like a repossession.
What were you wearing?
The pink stain of every pretty name
they hung from my body.