Solve for X
It's two you,
it's two me
it's our steady red harvest.
It sees through thick skin, giving
bones to the darkness.
It's father-logic crossed with
mama's mysticism.
It's belief that the unknown
is where it isn't.
It's you against me
on squared-up occasions,
It's addition, then division,
then it's multiplication.
It's blunt-tip theories,
it's chewed-up erasers,
it's lipless black kisses
on scraps of white paper.
it's paper-cut palm lines
under origami moons,
it's a red sky warning that
it's half-past June.
it's rain falling backwards
from clouds in straight lines
it's wet-headed prayers
to invisible shrines.
it's our ten crossing fingers
it's the search dogs sniffing,
it’s two lines in the dirt
to mark what’s been missing.
Its plane, a horizon,
to counter this thesis:
I’ll never smell god
without selling secrets.
It's two you,
it's two me
it's our steady red harvest.
It sees through thick skin, giving
bones to the darkness.
It's father-logic crossed with
mama's mysticism.
It's belief that the unknown
is where it isn't.
It's you against me
on squared-up occasions,
It's addition, then division,
then it's multiplication.
It's blunt-tip theories,
it's chewed-up erasers,
it's lipless black kisses
on scraps of white paper.
it's paper-cut palm lines
under origami moons,
it's a red sky warning that
it's half-past June.
it's rain falling backwards
from clouds in straight lines
it's wet-headed prayers
to invisible shrines.
it's our ten crossing fingers
it's the search dogs sniffing,
it’s two lines in the dirt
to mark what’s been missing.
Its plane, a horizon,
to counter this thesis:
I’ll never smell god
without selling secrets.