phosphorus
never learned the dialect for arsenic, antimony, bismuth
except phosphorus
white Venus the morning star pine torching the rural
bone ash & nerve agent & lucifer
fertilizing the riverine swamps
in Georgia where the wet fur
armpits of this boy
choke-holding my throat
said eatem’all, bitch
so I held all the bruised azalea petals
on my tongue as long as I could
& do you know those flowers burn
sweat grass tang mad honey
did you ever imagine the flushed surrender
tasting the punch-pink skin
a rawest now & then where
to sink your foaming teeth
the rusted can of his piss
was a little easier to swallow
the dew-colored dawn
not hot yet
the Prairie Honey Fire burned
in the Okefenokee Swamp where my father & kin live
call them Scooby Dumb & ma & pa Skillet
before I was Queer I was Southern
& I was bone ash-
haired & then at ten years old,
the creep called me “wild honey-baby”
it gets even creepier
inside a box
Champagne 9A staining my mother’s finger whorls
tented radical accidental loops
gloved Headline fused into Heartline
frustrating tactile perception
you know I was ten years old
the blue primer developing
clumsy inside my part my mother
Clairol Golden Blonde #9,
L’Oréal Natural Lightest Blonde #7
you are worth it at ten developing
inside the twin trundle bed the creep erect on my backbone
my queer was heat lightning
too far away to see the real thing
it isn’t that toxic bismuth we swallow it
pigmented lips silver-pink brittle
as sea urchins & again & again
I was ten diving
for sand dollars creep and me at the blue gulf
motel parking lot spreading out
the soft green living things
spined whorled bleaching
on the concrete just plain dying
I had rims of new pre-teen fat leg fur
a pile of plush animals a waxy doll-baby
some evenings I curled up inside
our emptied resin & steel above-ground pool
Venus rising light warping a float
with plastic stars