Keys


Already lived
in too many places-
could make a necklace
with all the keys.

So many faces blurring into one,
some man-god stuck-up and stupid.

Only one I don't want to forget...

After a while he saw past me,
what I would probably become.
He told me and left
before I could beg him to take me.

Probably the years between us
would widen too much.
This is what I tell myself,
when the night stretches me out
on my bed,
comfort of his words still in my head.

Long nights
hanging heavy around my neck,
those keys staining
a rust river
running between my breasts,
dripping into emptiness.


--Anita McQueen

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