two lips at night;

two lips at night, tuliping.

because she cannot remember
the last time her arms
trembled like this.

.

this situation is acceptable to her. she talks about it with surprising comfort, balance and poise. it makes sense to her at this moment in time. it is by no means normal. in fact, there is barely anything happening at all. it follows the same slow, deciding pace that followed them. & for some strange, cosmic reason, it feels like it should be this way.


"he told me i had beautiful shoulders. that he had never seen shoulders as wide as mine," she said to the voodoo artist.

"yes, but it's as though you let in an entire breath, and you never let it out," he responded.

he pressed his hands against her ribcage.

"what happened here?" he asked.

"nothing," she said.