The sweet delicacy of change
pops upon tongue,
and each new choice is sticky on lips
and warm as it runs down her throat.
Mina enjoys the night,
and plucks the stars to jewel her fingers.
Moon face men amuse her, and she
lingers near their smiles long enough
to measure the distance between their necks
to the next week.
In other words, she likes to leave men hanging
around her doorway, her shadows,
and between her fingers.
She doesn’t remember her fiance’s name,
her wedding date, or how to be timid,
but Mina remembers the man who presented a new life,
and how the change bit into her.
She felt herself bloom enough
to leave them both.