Don’t kiss me, I’ve
kissed too many soldiers,
their hard male bodies.

Every town grows out of me now.
The naval bases are the borders of my skin,
stars & stripes within the scissors of my thighs.
I tell you no lies,
rockbeat radio
played to my breasts
homage of bad singers,
good soldiers of America,
spilling semen.
They come looking for my mouth,
expelling all the good vowels
of their continent.
Woman traveller of the farmlands,
food for the masses,
gory road before me,
I long to escape.

Everyone is looking for me,
afraid I am their daughter.
My face is not in the newspapers,
your younger brother’s hands,
the safe brothels.
My skin is white like good money
to all the races
that scatter my parts to the wind.

I am your daughter,
the holy ghost
of witches burned in a charhouse.
I am the living body
of the clenched and the breathless-
taking each morning like the end of the world.