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PRIMESSA ESPIRITU

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The Rusty Toque | Issue 12 | Poetry | June 30, 2017

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ANTIGONE / A gentlemen's agreement

 
She used to just do it
with ties of the industry
she tasted like razor blades and
rockets, majestic and salty
 
No plans to cry with staring men
or weekly lists of needs and meals
prayers that only cats defend
knocked together like ruby heels
 
Now she wanders between the floors
to bend for a blade or a dime
asking herself to dare the chore
Growing green up to her eyes
 
Gravedigger, what’s the rush?
still time, still form, still dust
soon, the dirty moonlight begs
later, qualms and the quietus

Italic

​love is time
when I pull your ear
to my mouth
and all you hear
are waves
and you understand
the direction of the wind

Tussaud

i miss the bullet
round point
straight line
to the call

i miss the bullet
sharp hint
long kick
to the chest

i miss the bullet
short drive
quick vibe
to the lungs

i miss the bullet
heart burn
deep eyed
to your doubt

i miss the bullet
wet kiss
tip toed
to the song

i miss the bullet
in me
in sparks
to the lock

PRIMESSA ESPIRITU: This person lives and creates in Montreal, Quebec.