Stargazing Through Silk Blindfolds
by Logan February 

There's a single shriveled hibiscus by my bedside, 
next to the night-glass where I keep 
my eyeballs when they itch.
It is old, and it has lost its scent by now.
I was supposed to write about it, I think, 
but I'm too blind tonight, 
and it has no color anyway. 

Two veins, one needle
(I have always been tragic with division).
Two needles, one vein,
this is how I know to dance. 
Eyes shut, tongue out,
I am in a spacesuit, 
and these stars have nothing good to say. 

Will it kill me if I'm already dead?
Sway my head as I tango across the highway 
Mismatched socks, overgrown arms
the bathtub is full of sawdust, and sworn secrets too.

I can whisper, I was taught, I swear,
there is something above,
seashore, see-saw, skyline.

Lemon scent, morning noise, wake wake,
toss a hiccup toward the universe, 
where the fuck did I keep my eyes this time?
Slip in (gently now, don't wake the monsters
under the bed).

Crimson calendar swears I have slept four years
and a hibiscus field has grown
somewhere in my liver.
Sway my head, as I fertilize them
Lemon scent, whiskey scent, heaven sent

I am going back up
and my spacesuit is missing.
Tongue out, lung out,
there is no oxygen here
and no breathing.

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