27 Mar 2026: What Comes On Her Wings

Your eyes have a chameleon lucidity—

laughter in the dark.

I’m reasonably obsessed, but

it’s nothing really:

Chemical insanity and surface tension.

But, it makes me too much the animal.

I should be something else, but

I’ve hidden in this den

every year I’ve known you.

I’m awaiting a beast knowing well that

I’m the staggering prey;

Awaiting a trial hunt, guilty.

You know where I hide

And, I fear you’ve seen

those ugly corners where I keep

the broken porcelain and ripped silk

once in the shape of decent things

like oil lamps and a good night’s sleep.

Like I keep sleeping on the mattress on the floor,

the one the cat can’t stop pissing on;

nervous and afraid,

she has always been too much the animal.

You know all this,

but you look at my face and your lips curl,

your eyes crease,

and you show me your teeth.

Those corners were so big when I was a child

awaiting judgement day

as I held my breath tight in my chest.

Now, I’m lost in our physical laws:

That chameleon look takes me in

folded arms draped in your

laughter.

I have to know that at least you

do not bring God’s judgement on your wings.

I’m reasonably obsessed, but

it’s nothing really:

Just chemical insanity

and surface tension.