A poem for when you hear your name on the street

 
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A poem for when you hear your name on the street (2019)


And for breakfast, a bowl of raspberries/but the golden ones/little yellow sunsets/bursting between your teeth/as you lay in my bed/your hands are our hands are my hands/as we trace our calves/as our calves climb the cracking walls/where the most romantic bananas hang/being watched through red country club soda bottles/which are also raspberry/which are also the color of your bitten lips/ the lips I have bitten into a smile against the pink of the pillows you called disaffected and Floridian/a weight I washed clean after three whole months/and all the celestial bodies I have orbited crash into the chandelier like paper airplanes over your head