Bullets of Sound

I dreamt I got shot,
the pierced flesh
blood-whipped
and hot.

The imprint of your
lips, the comma
splice kiss
so new.

The swivel of hips,
the break of bone–
synco
    pated.

I bled clear fluid,
licked tears off
threads of
regret.

Cursed unctuous
air, the rain dangles
moisture
and sin.

Falling backwards I
lifted a solemn
chin to
smile.

To gush and spasm,
to suck and bellow,
I thank
bullets

of sound that repeat,
greet my memory
with ice
and lead.

 

 

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