Tee-strap patent leather, Smoked eye shadow, Silk gapped blouse:

somehow that means something to you all here in this place.

This ain’t your house,  aint’ your house. Never forget. You don’t belong here.

 

Framing crimes with projections, unable to jail the anxiety of me.

This blemished covering is brown in spots, yes, but solid. Split open:

Pomegranate –an innocent surprise!

The seeds floating in blood-red peace, a delight, forgiving: 

the ultimate lightness.  

Evil words with wings crown my head, a junkie’s racetrack. They scoop down and peck at rage, bitter dark.

                           Enough is enough.

Rantings.  I won’t give up chilled luxury for you. 

I push this restraint off of me and onto you where it belongs.

Photos of your mother, sweet one, one who died, one called an alcoholic. Batting my eyes, I shame you. 

Your siren is silenced.