The Difference between a Prostitute and a Prosecutor

Around us hovered lively friends
of colored cloth tucked full of cotton
whose candy eyes came to life as they flew
and glittered like bitter snapshots
of the girl I should have been.

And hands tucked over my wrists,
my blown-glass flower stems,
and I felt no fear. Shoulders wrapped
like sunlight around mine, a slender chin
by my ear, silent.

But I was the one doing the holding.

Who was he? Does it even matter onto what
standard Logan I project this tenderness ?
It’s still leftover, glittering in the freezer
of my unconscious mind. I watch it stain the pages
as I trace my fingers down, pool around me
on the bed as I lay still.

How elegantly must I move
to paint across my life
with this blood like watered-down glitter glue?

And their candy eyes sharpened around us
as they flew on scotch tape wings.
Baby black bears curled against my chest.
Somewhere, I heard yo-yos going off.
We hid from the others.

Anyone's closer than you.

Anyone.