Erika Meitner

someone calls

men to her house
she straddles the roof
they alternate turns
coaxing her down
they wait in the street
which spins on its axis
the wind gets monotonous
with purring fumes
exhausted trails
of hooked alarms
bordello rungs extended
everything is red red red
and waiting
take this light (night-swim)
take this sound (wing-span)
traversing the acrobat sky
she is jet-propulsion
and shy with crowned stature
divines the go relay’s
fast-bursting signs
a car starter coughing
the hymned power-lines
bellies of dogwood leaves
wielding their fur she is
armor-ready hyper-aware
poised on the edge
like a zipper’s pull
if the moon is a portal
a gate to the real
like panties like heaven
a palace of skin
her fall will unlock it
a finger running
her lover’s spine
a key a bolt tearing
one gold tooth one
gold star at a time
from the sky’s body
eternal partner in crime
the strings that hold her
all want no pain only
breathless brilliance bring

“someone calls” is reprinted from Snakebird: Thirty Years of Anhinga Poets (Anhinga Press, 2004).