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Ars Poetica
Pierced
Because words are
a potent magical yardstick
a testament to hours
my subconscious wriggles
through playgrounds and treadmills.
Because words are
the spackle of laughable lives
I write
to lie
under oath
finding my latitude
amongst universes
of atoms, phone cards, physics, verse.
Words the currency bind my tongue
like a lover seeped into skin.
Back home, they know they know
and you cannot
go back.
Because I believe in the exchange slinking
home like a cat
with my teeth cradling a fallen
weathered
magnolia leaf.
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