A voice tangled to my robe,
shrieking nervously as the morning penetrates the room
stacks of lullabies hide and
oxidize into shark words.
Shark words that mother left behind
when she revealed that she’s a woman.
Sharp gazes exchange above the table,
as he butters the bread and bites
into the punitive feast.
A headline hanging above my head,
inviting kinky doors in the
room that is without
and within manuscripts saturating my cheeks
into prints of bruised bulletins.
Blood-cells revolt and gangs of wine
conspire an engagement between us.
Nov/2010