Carol

by Summer Jade Leavitt

 
Forgot how to talk, forgot not to look at your
eyes, forgot not to look at your eyes, forgot
that if I looked I would die. You’re golden,
you pick at pieces of gold stuck in your teeth, you’re a bird.
I say you’re a bird. You’re medicine, I’m mistress, we only kiss
when we say goodbye. You hit the road. I leave
your hotel room. I walk around the city to get lost
in it. Up a block, up a block, and over one more. I stop.
You’re like my mother, you give birth to me, you give
birth to me, I forgot that, I carry your baby. Wouldn’t it
be great if I carried your baby