Mud breaks open in the rain
and suckles, a sound
of monsoon; sighs rivulet down the drain.
I am someone--even if a cheat.
A spinning doll dancer in a music box,
bit between my teeth.
I fly. I shed my skin
my flashy thigh, my cathedral ribs--
sip whiskey, dive into the din.
Around me the red sun smears
the fields; they burn phosphorescent.
There's a girl in tears as she learns
the footstep upon the stair
her fingerprint against the air.
Previously published in Girl
(3: A Taos Press 2019)
