You are the secret constellations
and their secret sons.
I loved you like thunder.
I loved you like storms.
Under baptisms and red wine
is my constitution.
But they turn the other cheek
because I am not your Princess.
You were toothless
when you came to me.
Abraham knocked on the door
of my seedy room at the Red Roof Inn.
Said that Daddy asked him to come.
He took a bath in front of me
then crawled into my Marlboro Bed.
And there was no sex tape for us.
And the priests never stand up for us.
Sermons are terrified of us
but there is no us.
You are the Northern Lights
and their beautiful daughters.
I loved you longer.
I loved you stronger.
The sands of time kicked up and
got in my eyes and suddenly, I was
in the trash with Crystal Pepsi and
pineapple Gummi Bears.
You got to move out of the
Red Roof Inn
and I had to stay.
I wanted to hate you
and I suppose that’s all
love is
so I tucked a Forget-Me-Not into the pocket
of your bluest shirt.
You were soft
when we took our first embrace.
Abraham packed up his bag
and moved in with the Princess.
He told her she was lovely
and threw away my flower
at the coronation.
I was flat on my back
alone that night.
A dull steak knife and a
hazy red light.
No one there to hold my hand.
No one there to catch my sweet.
No one there for peasants.
Abraham became a prince
and drank dry martinis with the Princess.
I tried to cry for him
but the doctor said my eyes were broken.
We didn’t fall in Big Deep Love.
We couldn’t even if we tried.
There was no sex tape for us.
And the priests like to forget about us.
I think they were afraid of us.
But there is no us.
You are the secret constellations
and I lie beneath them.