This is a true account.
After the Club
Some confuse a fist with a heart.
A trigger with a passport. A bullet with a lesson.
His was a hollow-point that hemorrhaged
from his bowels after he knocked
over a glass of water on a club table.
In green light he was a fluttering Luna Moth
who rose before EMS arrived.
Later in group his mom hemorrhaged tears
“Over a fucking glass of spilt water.”
The minute hand deepens her wound
as she treads on her Möbius strip. Paper cuts
crisscross her wrists.
What words, what touch
can heal the flow of blood and water
from her pierced side?