Flumes Volume 2: Issue 1, Summer 2017 - Page 90

Later, some cop said

she was hell of a tough bitch

‘cause she walked two blocks on her own feet,

two blocks to the all-night grocery

where another little crowd watched

going

Shiiiiiiit!

Will you look at that?

Look at that!

I read about it in the paper-two paragraphs

I have carried that story with me ever since

wanting more, wanting no one to have to be

those two stark paragraphs.

We become our deaths.

Our names disappear and our lovers leave town,

heartbroken, crazy,

but we are the ones who die.

We are the forgotten

burning in the streets

hands out, screaming,

This is not all I am.

I had something else in mind to do.

Not on that street,

always and only that

when there was so much more she had to do.

Sometimes

when I love my lover

I taste in my mouth

ashes

gritty

grainy

grating between the teeth

the teeth of a woman

unquestionably known

to be a lesbian.* *

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