I want to be annihilated completely, I want reciprocal forgetting, I want the angels not to recognize me.

Sharp Eyes and Nimble Fingers

there is a boy with sharp eyes
and nimble, tinkering fingertips
long strange spidery hands
that flex, bend, curl
foreign and gaunt, with thick knuckles
harmoniously taking to task
though muscle memory
they play computer keyboards like a baby grand
and handle game controllers
with the fluidity of a composer

he is all collarbones and angles
chalky hipbones,
a lighthouse stair-step spine
with lily-white skin
where freckles burst like stars

his ribcage holds the universe
it is cavernous, moist and dark
the rushing, pulse of blood
threads through his organs like dark matter

he smells like dried roses
and the sweet acid of soda
his mouth salivates logic
but songbirds do not perch on his tongue
because the truth
is righteously bitter and festering
it makes me nauseous

so i hide him in my cigar box
under my bed
i hide him in photo albums,
in jewelry boxes and diary entries
as if to contain and order him
from fear of my own chaotic love
but no one can truly be captured and held
we are in constant fluid motion
shape-shifting, changing,
and slipping between the bars


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