Tattooed All I See

Maybe Under Some Other Sky:

Ask me, Poet, Did I love her?

Breast against bristle, penny eyes—

I loved Rose the way fours

Exchange blows, the way fractures

Need islands, the way we tremble

In the glow of dead-ass truth—

You wanted to stay awake 

Just to see the end with her.

Guardian, gladiator & goon—

Skeleton-to-ash—speak, dead.

Forget, always. Ask me again,

       Did I love her?

With holy-mouth & hard-hand,

I play like I say: Yes. Yes I did.

Willie Perdomo.