Sitting at bluestockings/chocolate in my teeth/David Bowie/ Reign in tits

January 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

I’ve earned these tits
they didn’t breakthrough my glass chest one day
they fatted up with my thoughts and before I could complete
the thought about the man in the jacket smoking a cigar
my hands were full of them

Sitting at Bluestockings
chocolate in my teeth
chest on the floor
I feel my head on your shoulder
this is winter chest. We are surrounded by metal
this is the ____.

Chest at eye level means mother
and so often I get called “mom” that I figure at some point
I must have given birth to something that speaks
and I no longer have two cups of spit,
but I’m a superwoman
with a chest underneath breasts
is like mechanical armor
but I don’t want to scare myself.

I was going to tell you all about Africa
and the sun on my front and the perfume on my collar
and the dirt that collected down my sternum
but David Bowie died today and hugging his records
to my chest and thoughts about
coming into my tits in an age of
once upon an ace bandage and
handover the pushup bra
made me clam
made me feel like I was breathing through his chest.

I walked around in heels today with myself in only one order
and I pressed a chest at the end of the night.

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