I’m quiet in the kisses I stop
only a truckload of flowers
will rouse me I know I’m mean
trust that I’m the one stuck
up all alone with myself
my responses their scratched
backs because I want
to be backhanded (because
I do) this isn’t confessional
sure my own mouth is wet
but deadly as an oven
if ever I need to die
I can seal myself up
snug inside a closet
talk myself to death