Portrait of Openings

that evening peeled like a ripened scab.
there was a keg & a house. trojans &
no war. the only casualty was the body,
now a sieve & for every opening there is
another boy. & for every boy,
another night bleeding into morning.
so instead I want to talk about lips,
the girls that smelled of tangerine & pretending
all their kisses were of any man.
I closed my eyes & the sky ran like a bath
while my tongue met & unmet
each unnamed lover. & when it was full,
I slid into the twilight’s waters
under the palms of a boy I can no longer forget.
ask me now & I remember: the blood
of moonlight, finally emerging. my body curled in the
street, formed into a scar. it is the end
of night & I return home & pray for evening
to be a woman whom I can love with eyes open.
I pray to remember the names of the girls, to
forget the complexions of my sin.
I want to know how to want to know
again. to be reminded of
how it felt when the sky still bled. & a lover
who will not break under dawn.