You wore red paint on your face
That day you told me
To ‘just shut up and be quiet,
darling.’
I was quiet,
But I never shut up.
You hopped around in teeming,
Dirty
Ignorance.
As I ate Timshel
Like a breakfast of champions.
The caricature in the mirror
Lives on in terrible swells
Of the heart.
Killing carefully placed centerpieces
In bulk.
Three generations thought Anastasia lived.
And she had
Somewhere in the country of
Sulcus meets gyrus.
That’s where fire
Burns, births, and fizzles.
Either red like your face paint
Or blue,
Reflecting the most dangerous
Of stars,
Darling.
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