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the eclipse speaks water washes sun over moon floats between night and day you are in a hospital florescent truths green under white lights you my only brother with swell of hair on face see night dark and abandoned body in a corner you concede to the obsidian moon without seeing it you think: suicide as meditation admitted you are not evaluated for the toxin beyond this night for years of pain breaking a lone you seek and neglect you admit death grows inside you a damp rooted plant a bromeliad that remains with little water or attention absorbing insecurities as nutrient you keep a long finger nail to point outward to blame and keep solace at bay inward to name and create character out of hate the half-you half-bromeliad the absence you feel in touch intimacy as war |
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( ( ) ) I held you new born first boy that was my own at eight months we rushed you to the hospital, I sang in your face to keep your eyes open, praying you would live raised you as the boy that I wanted to be trained you to hold your penis pull your foreskin back explained the difference between boy and girl and I agreed when you insisted “but sister, I am a boy, I am a boy” ( ) ) this hospital visit you become almost naked stainless steel against white father present but empty at your side he doesn’t see the pierced skin raised and scabbed or hear the soft of your anger he is the bone that coexists with organs |
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( )) it’s night not end wish for drum and feather |
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( ) the eclipse fades to day in waiting your pebbled words gray-matter acceptance I walk in daylight through city streets quieted by chaos cross wet blood drying on pavement painted paisleys not crimson but the brown of orchid serene a stranger’s blood violent and peaceful tonight, the moon polished full gold burns the deep obsidian you say people either learn or die and there is beauty in your agony |