Power

My vote
is a Molotov cocktail
thrown at your sneering,
sweaty face.
How dare you;
like you are entitled
to my trust.
This flaming liquid,
these glass knives
jab your throat.
They are all
you are entitled to,
motherfucker.
Yell then, won't you.
Maybe someone
will cover your mouth,
too,
when you scream.

Sacrifice

Speaking with
a dead man's voice--
anonymous,
cooling embers,
feeling
each individual tooth
crumble
into dust--
when is too late?
Does it matter?
You take a stick,
swirl the ash.
It's not just
one person here.
There are many.
When each throat
cracked, the yolk
of mucus breaking,
did you give a damn?
When will you learn
that coins
are always cold.

For Dean

 Water lilies...
Even the eyes,
far away and knowing,
smile delicately,
 Lotuses...
when the blue arrives
to carry him away--
a wise young "he,"
tucked into his bed.
 Orchids...
Take a small curl
for a keepsake.
Remember the folds
of the petals--
his favorite flowers
 Roses...
that he wants so much
to show you.
Listen for the gentle laugh
on the breeze,
and decide, then,
to follow it.

False Safety

The repeated
police sirens
lull him to sleep.
When awake, he says,
'I like to be alone
except when I'm afraid.'
Pulling on his collar
is a ghost he calls friend.
Catching him
by his tender throat,
he understands
the price he pays
for false safety.

Pebble

I don't expect apologies,
sharply-formed like a pebble in my boot,
so I am the one
to say
I'm sorry
over and over,
until the sharpness lessens,
until I receive permission
to free my heel
from your fucking grip