bea sophia

Untitled (I know that’s annoying)

in Manhattan I carved

Zeus from my ribcage gave him

your address and the exact latitude

of your bathroom where I first bled

on your mother's Italian tile forty-seven

degrees from the sink you never cleaned

I mean I built a temple from my spine

vertebrae by vertebrae until my back

was just an offering bowl for the myth

of your hands on someone else's

throat in a city that swallowed

my kneecaps made them

holy made them stone

made them forget

they were ever

mine

your

apartment

was

Olympus

until

I found

Hera's

bra in

your

glove box

next to the

parking pass for

her mother's hospice

and suddenly every god

I ever built for you was

just scaffolding around

a man who fucked me

like sacrifice but

ate lunch like

a broker