sometimes, i still feel the heat
of every hand that’s wandered

across my body. shaking always
shaking, earthquake veins, an

uncertainty in the world,
stepping on the ledge and

looking straight down,
neck tingling at a ninety degree

angle. angels sometimes stare
at me with empty eyes.

i can match them.
i don’t have to blink.

somewhere, some time ago,
my mother is holding my face

between her hands and
crying for a response,

and i still don’t give in.
in the game of girl and god

only one can win.

—–