clocks are like mocking faces or
knives forward when a minute spans eternity and
the glare of digital red won't faster move forward
to the death of this day.
skyline meets shoreline, melts
into oblivion-yes,
that's what you called it
when i explained how much it hurt,
you turned my skin the color of
sunsets; and this is not even the first time,
making the fault
only
    mine.
one minute down and lifetimes to go
before the sun burns its own light out
and that skyline bends itself
and your hand disconnects
from
my
skin.
you know, i'm always talking about surface,
the subtle peaks & valleys of fuzzy peach
like it matters- like I matter-
darling if beauty is skin deep
you made me ugly.
the distant tide rises and your chest falls:
satisfied.
smooth back your hair, whisper perversions,
shake this girl off & wipe your hands- until
you are clean of this crime,
leaving me shaking in a man's rough hands-
for the second time.
The edge of your fingertip
traces the raised ridge of memory across my arm,
fingers that slice skin deeper than the blade-
asking again about that story i fabricated
to avoid answering a question with a question:
is it my own fault that the color of my love
happens to be the color of blood??
but i look down, oh i just look away with
straight-lined lips & careless eyes:
wild like youth & reckless
like growing so old in a single minute it doesn't matter
if i stop breathing
right
here.
in the front seat of a silver car in fading night-
all of the prying eyes deliberately refusing,
while my skin turns red-orange dusk
blue-black beneath your hands-
before it was even dark enough to hide behind night.
the sky is an electrical current &
the blue of day drives south like my stomach sinking:
fade to black, fade to horizon, fade to commercial..
fade to detachment & watch the
next
red
digital
number
appear.

(2003)