You could begin with my second
day, how the doctors withdrew
and the clergy stepped up
to render last rites. I made it
through the unknown mutiny
of blood with only my hearing
lost. It’s because I was deaf
for my first few months
that now I’m kindled by song,
and I listen for riffs to
itch my fingers awake. The click
and rasp of high heels
is a lubricant to blues. In this
city of facade and fever,
I’m shanghaied to a dream,
some species of luck tugging
the prettiest girl in the street
to my arms. I’m always cornered
by love at 2AM. I don’t know
what good fortune kept me
here, what awaits, only
that I’m located somewhere
between a come-cry
and dust, and I can only tell
how close I am to the first.
Remember this–absolved
in my first hours, I got free reign
for everything I’m gonna get
all wrong. I can feel your
breath like I can feel the surge
of roots beneath these stones
because I’m a dangerous mix
of beauty marks and scars.

from Shiva’s Drum


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