eyes squeezed shut tight,
sticky syrup oozes,
dripping down swollen lips
and painting lilac bruises
with half-closed eyes and
throbbing veins she twirls,
hot breath closet space:
a pair of party girls
pulse rhythm beat of
those violent Morse hearts,
oxygen thick,
swaying hips in the dark.
head thrown back tasting
tipsy laughs she shares;
head thrown back,
and there’s vomit in her hair.
head thrown back, her
aching neck might snap;
dust ceramic pillows
for those late-night naps.
and our mamas never wanted this,
we shake sob to be held.
always dreamed of daughters’ joy,
not voids dark illness dwells.
mothers always turned off stove tops
and kept the winter out,
but how can they change chemistry
to pull rainfall from a drought?
so they rock their big girls gentle,
sweating skull to loving chest,
and tears fall down both our cheeks;
these bodies can’t rest.

hidden in a bed, girl
twitches while she dreams;
her father shakes his head
at the upstairs screams.
there’s blood in the sink
too much think think think;
there’s cartilage in the walls,
can’t you hear the catcalls?
there’s poison in the ink,
write we think think think;
there’s acid in our minds:
girls mute, dumb, blind.
we grew up in the South
drinking clean sweet tea
but scrambled to muddy banks
and scraped all our knees.

world sits between her teeth,
unable to start.
apologies drink lemonade,
streets taste sour sharp.
meltdowns are just walking shoes
and suicide is candy;
we threw our arms up years ago,
we fell and missed the landing.