Fable, and: Death Finds Me

Fable

You want a girl who'll let you cry in herhair, who isn't afraid of the forest at dark—its black-mouthed beasts, backbiting teeth.

My hand in yours is for pretend, for fable.With you, I'm as close to woman as I'llever be, practicing my pout, posing prim.

I know how to prance like a golden deerwhen the music starts. I'll have youbegging at my hem, forgetting all

your prayers. I'll let the birds buildnests out of your lies. The only wordsleft on your tongue will be of salt

and sorrow, the only stars you won'tknow how to read will be mine.

Death Finds Me

This time, death finds me at the rough hemof the forest, a numb wish of a girl in needof a tether, a goddess with her new mouthstitched closed. All the dark spaces betweenmy bones, traitors who dream of fire.

This time, I come back sullen with knotsin my veins, thorns on my tongue. I mistakeeach ache and pinch for a love bite, allthose miscounted stars for destiny.

You smell the heartache on my skinlike an old burn, want to break mein half to find that jungle flushedwith green you lost me in, so sure youcan burn all the red out me, turn me to white.