faceless
names banished
bodies indistinguishable
a bottomless tumble
through dirty
vodka
and shiny
leather
afterwards
endless top-down
loops ‘round The City,
the ever-sprawling,
ever-spreading,
ever-stinking
City
that she loves
singing, smoking,
smoking, singing,
hair
flying
in foot-long
points
as black as the star
less
sky
then
Home
Why do you do this?!?
the amethyst comb
snagging snarls of curl and
wind in his reddened hands
Everytime – why?!?
in the mirror,
the Germanic
stone
of his face
belies the fear of
belies the need to
hurt
her
each tug a
punishment
each pull an
apology
eyes closed
she offers
up
the long black
spikes
of scissors
I won’t. You know I won’t. But why – again – everytime – Why?
eyes open,
she gives him
the first
Truth
in a long while
in a very
long
while
i don’t know.
i don’t know.
fingers tight
around the scissors
i do
not
know.
©s rogers 23 april 2011
