_object { -ions in the mirror

Listen to author

testosterone funny blanket
ripped sheets and new years

origami weathervane
mutational excerpts for cash

cornbread is your birthday;
your birthday, she is alive

with a middle name like Salvo,
you never have to bring your own

the frat boys fill your tin cup
with cigarettes, aerosols—

                      and meats

and call you a pretty taxicab
to take you pretend home

no knees are good knees;
no prayer is prayer enough

I saved the last sentence for you—
you, crawling on your bad knees

trying to make sense of the sense
you left bragging in the hallway

a microscopic orgasm;
a see-through, a piñata

light fuse and back away
are closer than they appear