before, you do not know

how your mouth will go dry

 

for a year after she cuts

into you, as if her soft hands

​

will also excise your tongue,

and you will be all teeth, all bite

 

with no warning and maybe this

is what you wanted all along:

​

permission to no longer spit

out your own words, permission

 

to let yourself burn like a signal

fire of only blaze and ash

​

before, you only know how

that final night with your flesh

​

unscarred, the street turns dark

with smoke and for a moment,

 

you wonder if you, too, are

aflame or if this is simply

​

some foreboding fate, a judgment

from the the heavens,

 

a cursed sign of what

is to come