Rose said love me harder. Rose said like
an Elysian Mary. Bloody her. Spectacle
rising like gloat. Salt on the rim, shot like
a pucker. Rose said I’ll tell you what: a spell
like the smell of him, ash between your breasts.
His chest a hero. Say it, lovey. Black cherie,
bête blanche. Pin me simple, my breath, my breath.
Pass me, Angel. I’ll wear my best.
R. said a rip in the fabric is a honey-bone
cry, and I am a grassy Negro hum de
la dee. I was never ripped, cried she,
cried she. Ach, c’est la vie. Say it, say
it, Rosie. Split the difference, vive la, vive la be.
Gray tone. And I am singing: baby, homo, home.
ANNA MARIA HONG