Genesis

The arid heat and friction creates
Bolts of lightning in my sheets
Twisting and synapsing
Illuminating the unfathomable darkness
Of my version of abyss.
My stalactite-infested grotto
Welcoming me in the way in which
I’m accustomed—
Dark, stormy, and fulminant.
All chipped black paint and bruises
Hands folding around
My delicate paper throat
Feral and carnal
My chalk outline imbedded
In my casket of a mattress.
My L.A. tar pits.
There was no funeral
Or kind words said.
Not even a moment of silence
To mourn the loss of my purity—
My summer birthday sunshine.
My imaginary best friend.

Instead, my damnation was embraced
All fire and incisors,
Belt buckle indentations,
Rug burns, the taste of leather,
Sweat and savory skin.
I’ve learned the roadmaps
Of your body with braille
And the tip of my tongue.
I know all your constellations.
All the changes in sea level.
And I’ve been trained
On principles of masochism,
Worshipped into submission
So when I’m shouldered
At the grocery store,
I apologize.
And when he grabs
Me by the wrist
I don’t run.