Other Lives

When you speak
About the girl you used to know
in her lingering hot bodied form
Have some respect for the dead

When you are through
With licking salt off your skin
And have eaten enough flesh
That now you believe
You are the keeper

You will find yourself
With hands pushed out
blindness leading
a sonogramed grid
of a voice’s echo

In this confused bloodless vessel
the belief is:
you have gathered enough scraps
for a full meal

If every kiss
was you with your tongue
carving out more meat

And every lie
Was second-hand armor
against your familiar ally

You’ll have enough skin
and hair
And the perfect amount of moles,
cuts, bruises, scars
To make a flesh model
Of your former love

You don’t know this,
but your new fantasm
Is a little worker bee

With enough rage
And angst
Together you build a meat dress
That she might wear
for special occasions

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