Meet Rough Honey...
Bee-stung, kerosene sister, kneeling
saint: in the smackdown, the allegory,
the happy ending: she wore lipstick,
she wore red heels, she wore tunes
from the jukebox. Behind the gas station,
in the gravel, between boats moored
to their pickups, with her palms out, collecting
rain. It wasn’t rain, her knees
were bruised, sweet reek
of gasoline, of dust and clover.
Gold ring, milk carton, cigarette.
Black root and cinder.
What did you ask for,
oh honeyfied, tangerine
sister? I used to watch you
with the lipstick, the gestures
in the mirror. The way your legs crossed,
the skirt creased, the sun and thunder.
Where did you go? I remember you
walked like a soldier.