September 24, 2010 at 7:48 pm (Bodies, Female, Sea, Storm) (, , , )

With only the contours of your profile
as my guide to the horizon,
it was the dryness I could follow like a trail
once you had gone. And soon enough,
through the grit and stone,
I found myself in Istanbul
waiting to become a boy.

We never made the trade.
I felt misrepresented as the devil.
Never once did I seduce you into a pact,
or sell you a side of a two-faced coin.

With an unshakable feeling of mangy evil,
I pick at the cloth knotted around my wrist
worth what it was not because you wore it,
but because I thought to take it.
Which was how it started:

The trimmings of a heart, wooden dice,
honeyed sweets and pennies
all snuck sweetly into my pockets:
I’ll steal anything these days
– provided it doesn’t matter

Anything, now anything –
crouched over the stone basin, a seductive scent
of strength, sweat and latent power
lingers close beneath my scalp.
I take the scissors to my hair to assert myself
then remember that’s just what you did.

Orlando, one fragment of this burning world
will be at your hand.
You left it to blaze its trail, splinter bridges.
Cutting the rivers I remember how
Our desire resembled surgery,
grim incisions and rearrangements.
Here, Old as anything, a smoking ship
dived into the waves of your torso.

Maybe this is all just some kind of belated love letter, but I’m not sure any more. Somewhere not too far under my grey veins I still feel the heat I needed to tell this story.


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