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"The Words"

Soul is a tenor whole note
Heart is hairy, and sharp like a spear
Body sounds like nonsense

firing a weapon is like
falling asleep
I pray that we're still here in the morning among
brain and feeling. Al least the shooting is louder than the poetry
I've whispered to myself more than
I've ever argued.

Bosom is one of the best words
it lingers on the lips
leaving them open for a while. I still don't admire
earlobe or shoulder
the same as scream. I want to be a songbird too
but keep coughing between the perfume
and the barbed wire. Everyone is standing around waiting
for something to look at. I wonder how much paint
it takes to feel beautiful again. It never rains in Texas
and your lungs fill with sand I wonder
if that will hold down the cigarettes
trying to revisit mouth.
I'd rather choke than stutter. I've

seen these alphabets flickering so brightly
between the bar doors and the faces beneath streetlights
falling off of cigarettes and hiding beneath genitals,
burning like curling ashes but
I'm still trying to catch them at home.