A Late Night Or Call

Realize:

You’ve been left with only compass and map

At valley ends, but no worry, the only call back

Was to be your mother father best friend or sister brother

Or an odd one selling you unsympathetic receipts

And the rest you know, you know

Are not biting their nails over your return

Or like you

Slowly laying back into the blade of their own survival knife

Into their own spine

Wishing, and I quote:

“I could just go back home.”

So bear in mind the times she left your hand on her

Teeth tempting

Meat of thigh

Now she no longer gives gift

Now she lets you indulge

In all the probable or inevitable

So you keep her smooth, love –or luck- colored hair

Where you can love it

Where you can huff it

Like suicides in garages

And from the bottom of barrels

Of your loneliest but electric late nights

You’ll give her a call

Receiver to ear

Twiddling an imaginary banded lock of her smooth

Love –or is it luck?-

Colored

Hair.