Leaned and narrowed-
With stretched bone and soft exhale-
The careless breath of loss-
The broken of loose laughter-
We wear this dirty so well-
Waiting for the promise-
Of Laura’s footsteps down the alley-
Almost as bent as the bottle caps she steps on-
When she is here, we can break together.
Oh, that Laura, she knows how to do things,
She knows how to pinch the skin the right way,
when you go in the neck.
And how to speak to the walking dead
She knows how to hide the bodies.
The spin and curl of flaunted flesh-
Bruised and bought haunches-
Meat and sweat and blood
bled in secret-
No need to apologize for this voluntary vulnerability
They wouldn’t listen anyway
They would have no taste for this language
Laura always knew, though,
The need to know the Nothing.
She laced your shoes and laughed with you .
Between the static edges of “Is this too much”
Laura never learned how to say “Stop”