PRIMESSA ESPIRITU
The Rusty Toque | Issue 12 | Poetry | June 30, 2017
ANTIGONE / A gentlemen's agreementShe 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 Italiclove is time when I pull your ear to my mouth and all you hear are waves and you understand the direction of the wind Tussaudi 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.
