like a language

a beautiful

revolutionary woman

black


to my whiteness

she folded all her things

and life

into a language .

to my Tennessee

there the timbres

stretch a love

out to its raspberry sun.

to my bookmarks

you understand now

revolution

is a woman .

Full time dominatrix
moved to LA .
In the background
an old skull on a blackened shelf .
I saw you in a news supplement.
I imagine you not doing small talk ,
sick of white men and
splintering their bellies with
rust
while adroitly shouting
don't blame it on Mexico!
What would you make of
my silences
or vanilla sex offer or my
hooded jackets.
I tried to write you into me
but the lines
dense ,
only made me conscious of my
breathing .