Across the room
I tremble
breath in her mouth
still unmoved
I stumble
her eyes x-ray mine.
Zigzag
I think
she as the crow flies
impenetrably black
she mobs
leaving a handful
of sweat, ash and me.
Stand and bow
I do
upon her every whisper
she laughs I come
I come she laughs.
Her voice uprising drums
I dance around the wagons
she takes my scalp
wears it when in sequins
and tells the girls
she’s had better pelts.
Fried Chicken & Philosophy 