and what touch-fearing-not-quite-girls-even-at-all

haven’t gargled and spit a bracketed she/her

to be a bracketed unseen/saved, the fleshmirror bruising 

every knuckle unclenching its eyes in a whistle. 

 

I thought gender a blood mirror for breath to passover 

But my brother, all varsity beer pong never not boy

tells me about the red acrylics hooking his belt loop

at the club and I say, I’m so sorry and he just 

 

laughs it off without teeth and sometimes I want to marble jar 

bodies who crow giggle at the sticky colouring of wound on their cheek

lift a dry stone from their soft creek, it’s you too, it’s you too, it’s you too

this reaching-soup boils all our marrowed freeze 

 

into slurpable ache, even by accident so, don’t raven curse

the pink, pink is not your rib-hugging pelt to exchange for 

a shin unscrapable, no one is safe from trespassing-want 

when we are all fences hoppable, keep-out beautiful

 

might as well be whatever sparkling creature  

will walk you home from the party and that’s all.