I have walked
after Francine Harris
I have walked on broken hands
and bitter soles of wasted sunrise,
walked on splendid bleeding and
your bruises cradled soft from red
to black. I have walked on
unresponsive and dismissive
deserts of you. I have walked on
cold clear talking while you said her
name much louder, scraped down
spines of metal curled like paper in
a halfway empty bed. Walked on
water like you wanted, walked on
roses like you wanted, crushed
bright petals with my fingers
falling, walked like slipping from
your own. I have walked, and I will
walk, and you will sit there as I
circle, making small of large wing
beating I couldn’t carry as I walked.
Jessica Lynne Likes Words 