Knox Dawn Breaks
I’m thinking about how I wish
it didn’t leave my mouth so easily,
this suggestion of begging;
like the life I wanted to leave behind
still lives in me like a stowaway,
when I hear a familiar voice:
Hey, man, me and my boyfriend ran
out of gas and we need to get home
to take care of my mom who’s sick. Can you
spot us a few bucks?
And I recognize the technique—the little extra lie
offered purely for the sake of lying; the love
of the game. Hell, the first part might not
even be a lie at all. After all, we were always
running out of gas—
it’s both unbelievable to me
and the most believable thing
in the world that they’d end
up here too.
It’s Dawn, and I wish I meant the sun
peeking fresh and golden above
the horizon to herald a new day, but no,
I mean Dawn, the one who robbed
Sylvie; who slapped her and pushed her
into the dirt; who left her feeling
alone and afraid and reminded her
that this world is filled
with jackals and pirates.
Adrenaline sears the walls
of my chest and my pulse spikes
like when I can hear
the buzzing of a wasp inside
the car but I can’t see it,
because this sandcastle I’ve built
with Sylvie? I know Dawn well enough
to be certain she’ll kick it over
for the pleasure of stealing
something she can’t possess.