Talk Down To Me

  1. What does it mean when I break?
  2.                                                             That the flesh
  3. can yield like this, wrenched open like two legs in a field?
  4.                                                             Say spit, say scream,
  5.              a breath quickens.
  6. It won’t say hush.
  7.                                     I think I’m given this one tongue
  8. for a poison. I call it memory.
  9.                                                             And the small disasters
  10. blinking on, like towers, in the gone-black sky: memory . . .
  11.                                                                         It was late.
  12.              It is always raining, cold.
  13.                                                             Not that that his mouth broke me—
  14. that it kept the breaking. Him that way like a version of god.
  15. I’m allowed these sensations of the damaged if damaged?
  16. I’m allowed to trust nothing?