There doesn’t have to be a word
to describe you, although lavender
and clocks come to mind.
He tells me we share yellow
energy: dawn rising together,
and I don’t tell him it’s just an old
trope I’ve melted before. Down,
like silver from his hands
I keep shiny, make teeth,
fuse cores to find sawdust, raw.
Our heroes blind-folded in front
of everyone–who’s untouchable now?
In the summer with a chance of a nickel-
and-dime win, we weren’t
controlling wires threading between
our spines, red string beaming the best
way for me… Sultry extortionist, these
are monsters: everybody wants something.