where is all of the seafoam green
inside of me, i know it used to be there
all built up like muck, brick-a-brack
teenage brat pack, angst is not black
it is the seafoam green of the old prom dress
crumpled in the closet, closed
shut tight like a virgin’s lips
and pink like her treacherous tongue.
the heat is a gun
is a bullet
is a hand that stroked my downy halo
blonde with thick eyelashes
rouged cheeks, or roughed?
milked flat and blue,
that seafoam is my dream
and my dream is the birth
of venus, of pearls,
you lick me clean and dry
and my baby skin grows over
ripe flesh and taught scars
a billion stars, a navy, navel orange.
hey that tan was a bad idea
and the acrylic nails, those too.
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