MOSAIC/ MEG TUITE

Piece together the eggshell of her face
in hotel rooms where she watches
herself have sex with you
in mosaic mirrors
laughing at the Elvis
of it all

in the car
singing into a beer bottle
high notes
scraping
rooftops
no tar or flesh can crawl beneath

in your pants
whispering to your penis
secrets that leave
the breath of her
tattooed on your desire

in the plump lips
that steam over you
when you lay beneath her
every spark in you
some kind of miracle
you will pray to.

in the moment
when you saw her
for the first time
after six years
and she rocked and shook
in a reckless beauty
that knifed
right through
your hope for any
possibility of an us

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