I’ve loved the curve of
someone else's shoulder 
Once 
That slope of skin that looks almost unborn 
Unbroken 
I touch it and feel dirty 
A craving that heaves 
In summer heat and midnight and 
I’ve grown up 
Waiting on the front porch for my mother to realize I’m not home 
That my bed is unmade like 
His face against mine 

He asks if he can draw blood and 
I think of being on his teeth 
Glossy and 
Red 
The lipstick lust leaves it ghost in the living room 
And my father says we’re moving 
My father says to make the bed like leaving 
Can be clean and 
Neatly tucked at the corners 
Like when the front door closes I won’t see the paint 
Chipping 
And think of his teeth 
Uneven and 
Grinning and 
Red 
Red 
Red