Art by Paul Rios
Entered the room from the balcony
light pirouettes on the wall
from the flame of a candle
burning in the corner
passive voices break even
in the corner
in the corner below
a stable of doves
rage against the bars
but the light does not pirouette
this is the way we speak
to convince liars of truth
no one understands
a word you say because you
slur your words
but it sounds good when you say
the things you often say
I dress you up in robes
and turn my camera on
in the kitchen, water boils over
splatters on the stove
toasted watermarks on the lino
cut in shapes like diamond skin
hope reigns in this
jagged to the touch
cold to the taste slow beat
I promise not to leave you
but the burden is mine
as the outline of your breasts
rises in the door frame