Hard Red

Hard red high heels and voices lifted singing
angry stutter-stops, our dreaming made music.

The bass wakes us, an aggression we thought
we couldn’t find. We’ll holler, ready to remake

the world, cooking stories for us to slip each other,
into back pocket, front of mind, busy for when

the voice goes. She won’t rest in silence: there
will always be the words. We came compressing

our hopes into not-quite-acceptable compromises.
No more not-quite-acceptable compromises.

No more compressing our hopes into silence.
There will always be the words we came for.

When the voice goes she won’t rest in back
pocket, front of mind, busy world-cooking

stories for us to slip each other into.
We’ll holler, ready to remake the aggression

we thought we couldn’t find made music.
The bass wakes us, an angry stutter,

stops our dreaming. High heels
and voices lifted, singing hard red.

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