R u m m y P a r k
b y R e b e c c a L u K
i e r n a n
27. Games Ghosts Play
I will crush the bones
Of your unearthly silence on this matter
To a powder, fine and glitter bright
As these sugar island sands.
I will feed you this
In the mint that kisses your lamb
In dreams of bistros,
Peppered in your picnic chicken memory
I will keep some in a locket
So when your head rests at my chest
In the forest,
And when, in the desert,
You taste your own breath,
The flavor is returned.
I spoke to him on the ferry.
Your name wasn't mentioned.
I kissed him in a dream,
Upside-down and backwards.
You weren't there
Red faced in the closet with a knife,
The border between the two of you
You could not emasculate the alien
For the fear of unsexing the self.