You were an invitation
to love somebody else

without the risk of losing
myself, and there was blood

along the edges of my blouse
that some misread for roses

when I came to sit inside
your movie hall that night

we stood outside holding
a stolen switchblade

to the belly of a rip tide.
Caught in endless dream.

.

.

.

…….My hero, you were tall and
…….just another study in the minds

…….of white men with a history
…….
of violence. May we be

…….forever drawn to resolution,
…….knowing you before I know

…….myself, the shaman running
…….roses through her country.

…….Filled with iodine. Filled
…….
with dark colts sprinting

…….off the hem of ships and into
…….
darker waters, for those ships

…………..have been in flames over
…………..the past three centuries. I

…………..lifted my blouse to murder and
…………..
colonization. Followed your eyes

…………..along my ribs. I took you in
…………..
and wondered if your hands

…………..knew how to touch anybody
…………..
other than my weight in gold.

…………..I wondered if my name to you
…………..was some deep feeling to explore

…………..and nothing more. Some stone
…………..
inside your mouth, tasting of ash.

.

.


Sophia Terazawa is the author of I AM NOT A WAR (Essay Press).

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