Brooke Sheild’s Eyelash Deficiency: Cured! Thank God, your miracles never cease
Across blueprints
we stretch angles with elastic,
straighten psychic curves
into lines with LifeTime endorsed
pharmaceuticals. You
have seen them press against
the current of posterity. You have
seen lasers burn and chemicals foam
those follicles persuaded to grow
or die depending on location.
Fuck fate! Blue smudge erasures
cross mind and heart and adrenal streams
while clots thrown high in thigh get caught up
(elsewhere)
self suffocation you were stolen,
knees broken I lost you I lost you
I lost you.
But oh how these hips still sway slow and circle in tighter
circle in this primitive need for someone anyone to match my
movements balance all forces until as one
we are finally zero. For now. Was this
drafted before birth? This curse?
This magical motor hum that draws me to you
and to you? You, my habit, you my promise,
you my wired edge.
