Genevieve’s Cycle Two, Week Three: Anthem

forestpath

Seven a.m. post-sex godiva
chocolates and a blue sky wide
enough  to curl into.
You croon black magic
woman into my ear, tell me
I’m Jessie’s girl, ask me
what I dreamed last night.
Darling, I am in my cowboy
boots and so afraid of gaining
weight, I am an inch away from
your pretty love and trying not to
cram it into my mouth. What
is delicate, what is fragile anymore?
From this vantage point we
are a hundred pieces of the
sharpest glass scraped from one hundred
of the unluckiest, broken mirrors.
Our edges, they are pressed
together like this, like this and you
take my fingers between your teeth.
Turn it up. I’m your radio girl
and last night my dreams were of you,
they were strewn like bread crumbs on
the forest’s path, guiding me
back towards the morning.

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