THE GIRL CAN SING
for amy, coco & nai
sanctify this gravel
rolling in the back of my throat
the first time I opened my mouth
I realized how close I could be to the sky
a turbine engine
the first time he saw me, I was nothing
special. but then I opened my mouth &
he realized how he could dig himself in.
a troubadour’s dreadlocked sheets
extension of hip, finger, last night
the first time I saw myself, I burned envious of
paper—what a blessing to be plain, white, & flat.
then I remembered the value of paper is what
one does with it.
origami, sloppy love note
bold stroke, last page in your diary
first dollar, where my body opens up
broken high heel
a psalm forgotten, dusty phonograph
a dirty martini, dry
river of mascara, in the closet,
the only thing that’s ever belonged to me
& I still give it away.