I LIFT WEIGHTS POST-TOP SURGERY WHILE LISTENING TO GAUNTE & BIG CATS’ “IN THE ENDLESS NIGHT OF DARK, EATING APPLES”
“We’re not stuck in here with the apocalypse;
the apocalypse is in here, stuck with us.”
the apocalypse quivers & takes a sip of its Bud Light.
it has never seen a party like this.
it is truly & terribly outnumbered,
while we sway to a beat crushing out of the speakers,
while we braid each other’s hair, & glitter,
while the boys who are not boys teach the
girls who are not girls
to put on lipstick
made from our own secret blood.
& oh, & oh, & oh,
apocalypse, what can you teach me of blood?
i have learned it for decades.
i have stared into the eye of a wound
& the wound blinked first.
oh, the parts of myself i have seen.
the scars on my chest measure twenty-one inches,
twin daggers whose extraordinary mathematics sharpen me.
you’d pray
to know yourself
like that.
i’ve got a spare room.
i’ve got a garden.
we hid my daddy’s guns in the polebarn.
am i scaring you?
we are gentle creatures gone savage.
we are sitting in our rocking chairs & watching the birds.
