if you would be able
you would supply shoes for an adventure
in a place that needs them
if i was able, i would say
but hands [around] throat
make things hard.
when you are at a certain age
when innocence is ripped
in favor of lipstick
tasting of berries
in favor of magazines with that
tickly “s” word emblazoned
when they ask you
“who taught you how to kiss?”
how can you answer that you didn’t have a choice?
sticky fondlings in stairwells,
places you have no right to be,
places that are tainted by that action now.
you can’t walk alone without glancing over your shoulder.
things are different now, tar-shadow-flowers
bloom in these places that used to be good,
untouched by flame and rot.
they’re all rotted now,
and your mistbones,
for a moment
turn to lead.
You are poisonous.