porcelain nails

in stuttered shutters
a well rehearsed genuflection
breathes in
breathes out
the olive oil
across your palms
between your
breasts
and across your
temple and tabernacle

you beat me to the punch
caught me hands up
reclining in a wooden chair
over lacquered concrete
waiting to fall
and split the prize
one for me
two for you
salt on our tongues
preserving our languages

///LINE///

my sky is black
my shoes are red
just a mouth full of loose teeth

hold the phone
pump the brakes

crack the glass against
sleeping shoulders and doubled knees
hands done up
hands done up in
pink and blue bouquets

if where ive been
tells me who i am
i lost my way long ago
and i am
i am my kingdom come