We hold on
it is part of what makes us bold.
It is what makes me take my corners tight or loose…
I drift around talking to myself, thinking about how
she would get more attention for cutting her hair
than for becoming part animal
since she put that flag up on her wall.
My heart goes stale when
I don’t want to admit that I
thought about warning her,
People can see that from the street at night
Lights on
Blinds up
Her colors leak through
Head down.
She answers the door.
I hurry behind her.
Keep the heat in.
I am shaken by how smoothy we pass into the room with the flag.
My mind made a museum.
My mind made a quarantine.
I am shaken by how we enter
because
my mind made a space
that people only leave.
I like your flag.
It is hung by scotch tape.
She tugs it down.
Paint chips.
She holds fistfuls of flag to her shoulders.
Feel it.
I stretch sweaty hands from sweaty sleeves, and
I hold onto the seams of her cape.
PLUTO BLOOMING 