lipstick coroner 

the goodbye was a gender of lace 
& color contacts. i no longer want
to bite through every doorway i decide
is now a gazebo. the garden
grew heels this year. we learned to eat them
with gravy & jam. what is weathered 
& worn. darning the veil again.
weddings in the middle of the street.
the world is coming to some kind of head
& i am not sure i want to be here for it.
put my words on one at a time.
i spend so much sunlight being
careful. i do not think it is a waste
but i do think of how deer cross freeways.
putting up a sign in my neighborhood that has
instead of a deer crossing, a gender crossing.
i used to think my body was unruly
now i think the sidewalk is. 
putting on the same black tights every day
of course they are going to wear down. of course
the holes will open like singing girls.
skipping stones. the lipstick i used to love
is gone. i opened it in the dim of my living room.
this was back when i still loved you.
back when i thought, "i am going
to make this work." of course i do love you
& i still love you & that is the thing
about lipstick. once it comes & makes you
a dictionary, you always have those words.
spitting cherry pits at the moon.
it was used. a stump of indigo. i took my thumb
to touch the last breath of it
before burrying it like a rabbit's foot
in the tiny yard behind the building.