The taste of danger

I left you at the

threshold of your room

with the animal skin

drum of death rhythm

redemption coming close

underneath your window

painted iron bars

to keep bad men out

and keep you

from puddling out

of your body

and staining the

wicker and flower chairs

again

flaccid fingers

slip through mine

in these boiled food halls

of bone rot and skin folds

taste in my mouth

"Mom, I really do not know

if I can watch anyone else die.

I must go."

sixteen

a suitcase

the dry Faberge eggshell

of an airplane

I breath in collective air

clouds, steel

and hues of blue

my eyes

too dry and tired

for food in little packages

America,

a taxi to Brooklyn

fifty dollars

a fortune

friends

future

fingers bones and skin

and diet pills hidden

under my mattress

she flushes them

when I tell her

and I let her

I can always buy more

words curl on thermal fax paper

and wedge in my throat

'Sorry to inform you'

from Mom

on her letterhead

and a picture drawn in pen

"Grandpa died this morning"

I should have been there

tears

the deep

hot sound of

grief chuckling

her arms hold me

'I am so sorry,'

apple shampoo

baby powder

the taste of her lips

and utter confusion

There are too many kinds

of toothpaste

and cereal here

I have never had before

the taste of want

is honey nut cheerios

and milk drunk sweet

from the bottom

of the bowl

lips burn still

I rub them

with the back

of my thumb

but sharpie heart

pictures drawn tenderly

on an arm

do not fade easily

'out damn spot!'

says Lady Macbeth

to her blood ghost stain

as I touch my lips