Veritas

There was something,
something I wanted to tell you.
There, in that moment.


Something about the blood.
Something 
about the spilling over sensation in 
my toes,
the bones


shaking and melted
beneath my epidermis and rind.
Something about Antarctica,


Something politically wise, and the
god
song we sang tuesday mornings in
the cool burn of bluing.


Dawn rushing over our shoulder
blades.
Something about the night, the
headlights, and horns,


the systematic dislocation of abiding
by the laws.
That they banned us, over and over,
but we kept going back for more-


Something like you, something
like your heavy hands and that 
drunken look that carries you


on and on against me,
like this is the first and last moment,
broken.


It was something about tickling 
fingers-
holding the spatula, properly, in your
right hand,knowing


to turn the pancake at the right
moment,
golden brown, to save the burn. The
rise and fall, how you


flip me, pan to plate,
the insecure rise, the body, the
freckle awareness.


And sighs, touch you like razors,
sighs.




...