Friday, December 02, 2016

It’s not the First Time I Wear a Cummerbund





It’s not the First Time I Wear a Cummerbund


I am the glow of a fixed star, the timeless echo of a plea that always returns.

You seduce my rest, and climb my geography.
Does the mirror fade like a refined emotion in your hands?
Don’t answer, I need your silence to be wild.

The sun shatters into rainbows. It makes me sweat.
I lie near a turtle on the floor of a botanical garden
hoping the stillness that dwells in my imagination
-the crossdresser singing boleros to the stars- calms
down and erases my fear of being marginalized.

Not all silences are the same,
there is no such thing as a perfect stranger.
Not one is as perfect as his shadow.

In the lake of Close Indifference,
where the bed creaks like a bag full of rain,
we were all size 30 once.

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