—after Sam W.
because who could trust anyone
who can’t explain the blue scar like a tributary
worming down their neckline?
who doesn’t have at least one story
where a car rolls end over end
on some lonesome stretch of Illinois highway
before shattering into a cavalcade of glass?
who could knowingly crawl from the doused inferno
and into bed with the someone who refuses to admit
they tried on their lover’s jeans while they were gone
just to see how they would fit?
see already plans are being made
loaded into rowboats
and shoved off from shore without you
please raise your hand
if like me you’ve ever pried the lid off
a can of old house-paint with a buck-knife
and nicked yourself then sucked the wound clean
or wasted thirty-three picturesque New England afternoons thus far
waiting for leaves to rake
everyone wants and as far as I know
I am no different
at least once this winter
I’ve dreamt of kissing the pale
freckled stomach of a close friend’s elder sister
and awoke with honey on my lips
what I want is be wanted back by what I want
which is like my mantra
I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t listen to music
because who has the audacity to stick
their arm into the gift horse’s gaping mouth?
who is so hungry they ask for more after seconds and then thirds?
who could doubt the miracle
even after the preacher says be healed and we are healed?
—after Sam W.