I have no reason to ask you where I
come from. Or why
I pick rubies from my eyes and they
are still green. Why you
Are jealous of that crowning I
spoke of so earnestly. Just because
You cannot bathe a baby or fill a
skunk with marbles or make
Nursery rhymes of your misery—this
has nothing to do with revenge
Or being grossly sparklingly
literal. I can’t possibly reveal the fact that crowning
And rubies are code for rape and
beauty. How a man I did not know
Stood up inside of me and ran for
the prize winning pig. That I’ve
Been born several times to the same
time and haven’t a name. Yes, I am
A known secrecy. Small goddess of
god-frazzle and Plathonian
Logic. I’m known to drive cars on
water. To sway in the most
Intimate stillness of a word you
said when we first met because I
Do remember mostly everything you
said the first time we met.
So put away your jewelry tools.
Keep your cuneiform to a minimum.
Steal away to real darkness.