Mom said, "he introduced me to myself." youngest of five, her thirstiest child what a love story, its red words in life’s thick book of black scripture. forty years later, she basked in love with him, still silver haired, her heart bags packed for the Great Reunion i watched her wander those memories behind schoolgirl eyes, protecting their private labyrinth, no trespassing she repeats these words like lullaby, as if rocking me on a porch, rather than trapped in her hospice bed every word wrapped in nectarine dawn like i’d never heard them for her, i pretend traditional, vintage love never gets old, sensing she doesn’t mean what us riotgirls detest those of us above graves, lovers alive enough to honor androgyny, bury gender we too are introduced to ourselves in the heart havoc, love that drops its bombs via messengers, when the soul mates come such Bloody Love stirs in eclipses plants seeds in dark moons ancestor patterns crash into us through retrograde rear ends in the wounds we breed, we recreate so many of us discover ourselves in that thorned red mess, love disarming so paths repave, wardrobed in lover catechisms.
