Life as seen through a crack in the door; you, your two li(v)es lived
delivered you to my arms before; you, your two li(v)es lived
on this lot—mixed messages bottled, smashing to my shore—
your palms dug my g’hard-on, I watered you. Your two lives li(v)ed;
what I’ve overhead’s what I’ve already said, say no more.
From spirited p(r)ocessions to ward you, your true guise hid;
leaving the future in (y)our hands, I left the past and ran,
beating the bounds of our folklore down to our two sighs: “Give
up the ghost!” Blaring stereotypes so-damn-loud, slow-down,
now; property li(n)es suture-bind us to more survivals
than undefined borders can meet, and sounds can be said low,
’til I say “Go!” And oh, how it suits you; your two lives li(v)ed,
so, marching toward you from either side, congregations
gather, chanting to scatter out from you, your two li(v)es lived.