poem: the lighthouse between my legs

Lois Smith and James Dean in ‘East of Eden’, 1955.

Spent time looking at it 

from all angles from all spaces

Now, held in my palm, felt its weight, bred the sorry

entered it in races -

tested its purity, cleaned it of all traces of two-facedness

cutting no corners, cut me no slack

girl-body knows when love lingers

when love lacks.

 

This body will remember what the mind does not.

Fi, pass me the white dove feathers

to soak his hot piss that I mistook as

P U R E

R E A L

L O V E

 why hurt a coward?

can' teach a fool 

 God, its in your hands 

let my beacon guide this lost lonely ship away fae me 

God, its up to you.