drag hour zeroish
this is me in lipstick
and cotton, leather belt
and tight smile
in love, out of a job
in the space under the stairs
but this is me with eyeliner
or a fat lip, sunglasses or
charm bracelet. waiting for
the sun to go down, pacing
softly; the floors creak
no matter what the weight.
and this is me fading, turning,
maybe giving up something
of my own accord--this is me
in girldrag, pretending
the answer is "yes", straining
to wait for the nothing hour
the center of my explosion
or this is me singing, calling
to hand all the power, recalling
into my mouth all the dreams
loosed and forgotten, the memory
of desire, and the anatomy
of want. This is me shaking
my clicking bones, shattering
the past--this is me, schrapnel
into my own future.