Delphi, Your Fire
We argue about common myths,
all the while I'm growing fatter. You,
balder--yet we both agree we look good
cloaked under dim lights with the blinds
skirted down, inhibitions hemmed about
our battered ankles--the remaining imprints
I will extinguish my fires
if you, in turn, extinguish yours.
What a liar.
An exclamation I mutter into the silken
conch of my pillow, impatiently waiting
for it to echo back:
chastising and belligerent
like my mother.
I remember she used to call me
her womb-fish, but I always preferred
to swim in the gutters.