EACH LIGHT A KNIFE

New York City, 2002

In those days, I never

expected much, believing

a man must be desperate

if he touched me

—oh how I wanted

them to touch me—

I fucked a man high up

in a building, Broadway

combusting beneath us.

Each light a knife of glass

-shatter. Each light

a galaxy we existed in.

He gathered his clothes

while I drunk-slept.

Men gnawed at my ribs,

knelt between thighs,

but none ever wanted

inside. A watch

forgotten on a table,

a T-shirt wadded up

on the floor, men

who made it to morning,

fumbled with locks,

pulling at the door.