Querida

A needle truth is never easy, especially on this campaign, your cold fish knife cleaving, held towards my thighs, believe me no child’s game, a flash of blinding light, what am I supposed to feel, enduring these days, with someone who seems, constantly in flight, afraid of fight or change, a gauze filtered prism, separate from love’s delight, what makes you delay, our crossing on fevered nights, it is better to dream, face you down make it plain, pull you to your salted knees, America on your blade.