all your hair
there is my street
addressing my sidewalk
before nothing else of importance.
and there is brick under
the paving, loose stones and
smiling holes that need to be
filled.
the sidewalk will darken
in shame and hide when it
rains. the street is a row
of urinals flushing.
and right now i have you
more permanent then jewelry;
more lasting then the grief
of taking it off forever. but
i don’t want to cry, don’t
feel anything soft or fleshy in
you. i don’t want you to
sing or touch me gingerly as
a child. i only want you to
last longer than memory. to
pinch harder than shoes too
shiny to take off.
leave me your bones: step
out of them brown and
unbleached with a trickle
of blood that stains forever.
or,
toss them before nothing else of
importance. leave them to fill empty
cracks in the holes in my street.
