2/27

tattooed moons

i went to learn perminance.
space stations dipped needles
in their dark. a teleprompter 
full of centos. the moons'
wild bright skin without 
any evidence of a language
i could learn.
old inhabitatns who only spoke
in memories of water. their obits 
ice-skating my collar bone.
the juggler on the corner
of the space station
where he drop his bells.
for my first tattoo i dreamed
the action could make me into 
an astronaut. blood to the surface.
breathing only galaxy dust. angels 
with feathers made of glass.
when i say "heavenly body"
the moons say, "we want to be
less holy." who doesn't want
to be less holy? i write my name
where no one will see it.
an ocean used to break here
or else this was a face
rolling in the skull gardens
of our grandfathers. no one was
proud of me but me. taking 
the fear of transition 
& snuffing it out. when i say "fear"
i mean delight. my joy is the kind
that burns stone. the moons gather
to exchange secrets. 
point to their mouths & say, 
"here is where
i want a name."

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