Sudden Denouement Literary Collective
I don’t think you want to know me
like you say you do
I don’t think you want to know how
my hips ache with the weight
of women crumbling
under angry men
and bridges painted whiter
than any Holy Spirit
asked them to be
I walk with the stumbling grace
of a wounded soul stretched
and ready to burst
against the aftershocks
I have placed in my pockets
I don’t think you want to know me
I think you want to duck and jive
and convince the women
in my pockets to sidle up
under neon lights and press
their hips against smudged rails
while they powder their noses
and sit pretty until they are asked
to dance or you get five fingers in
and begin telling the story about the time
you watched your mother burn.
You will never find salvation here,
but I like the way you…
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