###### Consecration

My friends are stars to me in the burning bright
way, not the remote and distant way

My adversaries are lords. Those bitches are
feudal

Some people are serfs but are ploughing in the
fields of love, which is more honorable than
being any lord

Lover, it is your shoulders that I stand on. It is
you that tried to teach me what not-fear was

Summer is the time that glimmers and we tell
limericks in the shade

When I walk alone the beloved is grandiosity
itself

Dry your soles on the mat and come to me. It’s
dumping so hard out there

What you don’t do you will never do

I’m comforting this dying dog in my lap. The
suburbs are a place to dream

Summer is the time to play games

Consecration

Gianni sprayed Barbasol along my shin.
The blade was ready and made
by Bic. Blood dripped onto a glossy
*Scarface* poster.

Eyes hiked my dress up further and
shaved me. The cauldron
at the stove boiled.

Lobsters ran in my stockings. Smiles
stopped the red traffic
with poking fingers, sweat
cooled their faces.

Dehydration. Blue flames under
the steaming pot. Gashes
add 1, 2, 3. A land of 1,000 dances.

Brunette shavings snapped in half.
The smaller hairs fell through
the strainer. Faces fed me. Legs
were leechcraft. Gianni
washed my head with Dawn.

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