alien hand syndrome

when I’m on the other side—

I’m a molten orb of desire,
kindled between your palms
released, summoned
to a damp forest floor.


dodging desire like a motorcade,

you sounded your own whistle and steamed through
      no regard for pedestrians, brainy new haircut
       unwrinkled shirt, rubbed yourself shiny
        procured dalias in november fastened round your neck
         and shuffled as not to be too late
all for me: how could I not be taken with
     your discipline and want to feed me dregs
      of a season suspended in time melting
       sunkenfaced jack-o-lanterns crowd front porches and
        they look so sad don’t you get it, sleepyhead?

if complicated is the new black, I would know
     as a woman who dresses in sober widow tones
      and has played the same card, told by lovers that shit ain’t cute
after you pay for dinner, I need to feel brass on blues
     because you don’t put out, I make my last-call alarm,
      tear earrings from my lobes, ready to have someone my own way
       only to have one show up at my door
        pennyflip ‘em back to where he sleeps alone
turning on my incandescence to get myself off

    when I’m low, I’m lonely and I want you to pull your shirt up;
     but when I’m high, I’m punchdrunk
all the world’s roses are for me
and you don’t matter anymore
     here, I learn desire is fixating on what isn’t
      desperation dragging down my tailfeathers,
       beads of trepidation collecting in your body’s seams
the worst of it is, if you would let me in,
I’d learn to unlove you as nature allows
and just long enough to deepen my hooks

        all the while dodging the motorcade that won’t stop—

just a drop

I lose myself
in wonder

in the build-up, in anticipation
in the not-quite-there-but-almost
in the under-pressure-frantic-maybe

what parts
what (or who) do I aim to lose?

I shiver on dancefloors, grazing skin
of strangers, I’m a thief of sensation

I soak my thighs in my own salt,
feigning self-love in vain but with grace

my ego withers on long walks, stretching
the length of tissue between head and heart

I lose myself in moving while
skimming remnants of you floating like foam on crests
and avoiding the desire — broken glass, bottle caps — that dwells (hides) below
if I bleed here, it will sting so I
keep tip-toed and hollow-bellied
instilling fear in feeling of depths I cannot see

I lose myself
in all I want
– he never loved you, Jo, but at least he was honest –
as not to lose myself
in your sea

have you a tired soul (pill bottles)

Is the body the shackles that hold it
down, chains you to your inhibitions
Does sleep bestow no rest Are you a
tosser and a turner Do you walk conscious
-less down corridors of scenes played
out only in the staggering lapses of breath
just before you shut yourself off to the
world (including Me) I can’t have you the way
I want you I can’t watch you panick, exult,
descend into vulnerability I can’t mold to
your shape, rise and fall to your movements
in syncopation Mostly, I can’t tell if
you’re tired or just lazy And I can’t ask
the question to determine if you’ve been
sleepy for a while as you lay before me
motionless but for the seal of your lips
waiting to be tampered with Let me shake
you Let me awaken you I will wake you UP

chakra dissonance

I want you, but I know what I need

less crown and more root
more comforts of home and warm floors
less highs, longer savasanas, and
a steady drum to pace out the lows

I need a slower heartbeat
a blood pressure without tides
to lavish my adrenaline in lavender
to coax my cortisol with lullabies

my nerves are live wires
hanging haphazardly above your head
you hum a familiar tune you know I like
to settle the skeletons into my skin

and I need you to know that this isn’t your burden,
but you are a cool calm liquid – here is your warning – that goes down easy
and though I should, impulsivity can’t say no
and though I shouldn’t, I take you intravenously: tranquil or drugged

I want you, but I know what I need

I want you, but I need to learn to enjoy happiness
without first seeking to hurt,
to be hurt

I want you, but I need to know the difference

bad desire

you are more so
like a f r e i g h t t r a i n
          r u n n i n g t h r o u g h mydreams
— carelessly burning coal,
covering every surface of me
in soot —
than a peaceful aircraft
taking me to some palm tree

you are more like
lemons for breakfast than ~peaches~n~cream~
you’re abrasive
with an ego the size of jupiter,
brilliant and unyielding :: a conversation
that keeps me up all night so
the next day feels

you are irresistible in that way
that you can’t help yourself
from having so many women wanting you
and wanting not one of them
but me

a strong shot of espresso

I want you like coffee in the morning
rolling me out of bed

the first to touch my nose
and my lips upon waking

If I drink you, I’ll feel better

you’ll lift my chin till my head clears
and lure me with your aroma

I’ll gulp you in desire
and pray for my addictions

and hope the spark in my veins
won’t burn and
crash later