how intimate it is to hold a man by the neck
how easy it is to caress
how easy it is to crush
tenderness is a thing we have to be taught
and it must be practiced daily
I learned how to touch a man
first by watching my grandmother hold a knife
and then by holding one myself—
careful not to cut myself
on the edge
not yet ready
to show blood
I learned how to be touched
by watching vultures pick at a carcass
on the side of the road
how many times will I dream the dream
of a switchblade tongue
opening me up like a fig
and how many times will I
like a fig too ripe to eat
open and reveal nothing
but the American rot inside
