The Moon Ensures the Shine From My Lipgloss Can Distract the Men Who Wish Me Dead

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As I walk home, feet rubbed raw ankles heel cracked and dizzy

prancing like a fag past the dark alleys my coat draped over my arm

like my wrist pointed limply towards Hell

from where Persephone and her gaggle of gluttonous lustfallen queers

(because who among us didn’t obsess over the Greek pantheon

who among us never thought about fucking their marble Gods)

reach up to hold my hand and guide me back to safety

licking the pearls of sweat clutched in the hair of my upper lip

past the short cutie with the homophobic neck

red with hate and jealousy I can taste the vegan jello shots

begging my body to lurch forward pulling me away from his calloused hand

I pluck my lipgloss from my pocket and push my skirt down

over the grate Monroe style but with tear-sweat smeared eyeliner and

a foal’s gait the air loud and green filling my nostrils with hunger

I wink at the broad shoulders and baseball cap coming from across the walk

drop out of his elbow’s arc as my ankle gives

mere moments before flashing a crooked drunk smile to his friend

with the big pecs and pencil legs my nail scraping sparks off the concrete

lighting up the baggy end of their basketball shorts and

scorching the tip of my tongue a tarnished silver

leaking flames down my throat making bonfires of my lungs

so that when I blow a kiss to the bad porn stache

with knuckles locked on to my teeth he falls to ash at my feet

perfect to dust away the shine of my forehead as Persephone leads me

stumbling over into the arms of my unmade bed.

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