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.


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