If you just
twisted the knob,
you’d see it was
unlocked.
Awaiting your
footsteps
and then
your knock,
the way
my bum waits
for the
surprising
wake-up call
of your alarm
cock.
I said it.
You were dead before meeting me.
I meant it.
And I was a nomad before
that train ride home.
All my sexy travel stories
were precursors
and forewords
and interludes
and simulations
and openers
and knock-offs
and thrifts
and sterling silvers
and covers
of you.
For that face,
I'd say your rib
created me.
I would gladly accept
the patriarchy.
I'd let you rule me.
There's still flesh on the bone
I'd like to eat.
Speak.
Quit playing dead.
You always reappear
the moment
you enter my
head.
Is it telepathy
or is it
my own
witchery?
Twirling my finger
and continuing
history,
pulling some Matilda abilities,
cracking tea cups,
seeing prophecies
inside Turkish coffee cups.
I let go of the past
to make space
for you,
but you held onto it
and left no room,
as if scooting me off
a bed
where you
fucked me.
In trying to catch up to you,
you've aged me.
Outrun me.
In fathoming the you
back then,
you’re now
expiring.
My hair collects grays
and yours
you’re now
dyeing.
I’m wishing over candles
and broken bones,
knocking on wood
that weeps with
resin.
Jinxed
by my own
confession.
You’re not supposed to
reveal
your wishes.
Tell the truth
then the lie
diminishes.
You’re warded off
as if
scared
of crucifixes.
How young I feel
now.
A walking kid
with splinters in her toes—
is that how
you see me now?
Rug-burned knees
and scabby elbows?
This spark was
dormant
like herpes;
unrecognizable
and then painful
all at once.
I’m flared up
with mosquito bites.
I love you
and I hate you.
I want you
and I rebuke you.
You’re an icicle
that never bends,
out of fear of
snapping
like asparagus
attempting a
forward
fold.
Niceties
are cruelties
when we claim
truth is told.
I’ve chewed for so long,
I no longer want
to swallow.
Starving myself
until my stomach
becomes
hollow.
But you chew on
yesterday’s
swallowed food
instead of stepping into
tomorrow.
These secrets have made you
obviously
sick.
Your thoughts of me
buzzing
in my ears
and yet we call it
tinnitus.
Are you covered
now
in cobwebs of
haunted?
That the one you
hired
fired
you?
That your fear
of rejection
rejected you?
I am the spider
that lingers on
that dust,
the dried yoke
in broken eggs
of lust.
I’m scathed by
what you made me do.
Arms around their waist
to forget
the thought
of
you.
I'd hop off
their bikes
and instead
ride with
you.
I’d clear
all the bases
I crossed
to forget
your snowy
traces.
Touching base
was just a false promise.
Riding backwards on a train,
I faced forward
towards your town,
questioning if my past
would become
my future now.
I forgot
to forget you.
I forgot that it hardens,
this quickening concrete.
You could care less
yet I give out
free erections
on the street.
I perceived saturation
in your diluted colors
of modesty.
Your ambiguity
made me
fill in the blanks,
so how could you blame me
when you
never
explained.
These endings are mornings,
the way we wiggle our
fingers and toes
after sleep.
Shattering our dreams,
brushing them off like crumbs,
and awakening
to limbs that have
gone
completely
numb.
When you run out of ice,
do you use
your own
heart?
Dipping my finger
in your
bitter
coffee cup—
did I go too far?
Was your heart
light years away?
But your
far
was my
close.
Did you like my nose?
I saw you stare
as I looked at the houses.
Was my presence
an uninvited
phoenix
[into your safe life]
that pounces?
My questions
leave me with
whiteness
so that I may color
this illusion with
answers.
I made
a whole
out of a collection
of bits.
I gave birth
then resurrected,
and now the world is demanding
splits.
Thoughts wash and dry
in your mind.
Sitting for days,
wrinkling
on the
clothing
line.
You overthink your response,
tearing out the
pages and
leaving me with
the spine.
Yet your
silence
has made you
spineless.
The most quiet thing
has made my pain
so loud.
Cutting me
in the name of love
doesn’t make it
halal,
and yet what I thought was weight
was none other than
a turbulent,
ephemeral
cloud.
© Stephanie Khio 2024