Between Heaven and Soil

She says that tears are rusting my old banner
flag of independence
seeking the makers of cloth sewn directly to my skin
walking between heaven and soil in velvet lace
chained to my goals
Crying in the night with nothing flowing
for what is sex
the sexes aren’t all that different
wimmon womyn women
all words same thing different context
speakers of peace and truth
who raise their bayonets into the belly gullet of the institution that birthed them
walking between heaven and soil with spoken words
unheard in a paranoid delusion
as daughter of a starving mouth who longed for kisses
Cheap fuck from a friend enemy family cousin of an acquaintance
never met the boy girl but hate the ideas they represent
her disappearance possible
I speak cynically of cresses and caresses in a smoky city
puffs drags drifting into an open sky
walking between heaven and soil and actually stopping
holding her in a stairwell I once feared
thinking of sleepless nights on balconies over the airport
thanking her for the use of the bed
no obligations to me
falling asleep in her arms
worrying of dreams of white powder and children in the forest
who are walking between heaven and soil.