something about wind

i.
gust, ruby waves, a flame
beating and calling and breaking
the tame, the hold placed on souls
that hold their own breath;
that mutter more but will
not chase; that catch
their writhing tongue behind
their teeth; bound wrists like
lakeless fish; fingers shiver
for flight- to flee, to breach

ii.
blowing through me and
catching in my chest-
spin, build, stir, brush
up next to the harsher parts of me,
hardly internal, that bruise
slowly the vulnerable in others;
erode both façade and truths
that should not be true
and leave me human, only.

iii.
sweep my skin as you pass
and glassy eyes go dry and ask
do you feel? yes; less:
heavy and penurious and pressed
hollowed now and thirsting
for movement, to be
drowned in another's depth, to
be full and still
filled more, for foreign hands
and minds and a certain kind
of alone, for an expanse within,
to be gradual in gain, sudden
in knowing, to be wind.

more film

film

was it wednesday

no no no no no
means nothing when he's
got it in his head that
this is all for him

but no after that first kiss, sweet
and rare as you made it seem,
was still no

no, with my wrists together and
my chest heaving and
my head beating

no, facedown with my fingers
grabbing at the sheets
anchoring for a pull away
away and fast, now

no, shoulders pinned
man on my back
the dark burning scarlet

i let you walk me home
and tug at my clothes
but i said no