It Might Be

Heidi (this masked stripper who is) singing her skin, undulating sinews
to mend her broken bones, the bills of her soul, paying for life

---her flesh shy, she clothes herself in words so thick upon each other---
Riddles for the eyes that would look and feast

---blinding the terror in her smiles. Heidi knows it is too late
To cover herself up: She says this is as plainly as she can get.

Heidi says that she is a memory of the half-moon, perfectly lonely in its memories, all vivid sepia amid the blackness of every night. Now

And then, there was that summer when Heidi’s body was torn from its dancing pole
and taken to the sea and sky: There, the half-moon had begun to shine

Into a new spheroid, to become full: Heidi had to make a choice.
Heidi, in choosing, was being torn into three--- 1)wife 2)mistress 3)woman

Heidi said that what ties two summers, now almost three, you and she
was a resolve for eternity: a friend---closest to the heart, for the heart then

And always is occupied by the cold. For warmth, there are quarters reaching for more,
more light, more burning, more blood, more turning that smile or laugh---

Strip.
Heidi will say, I was breaking my heart that summer.

Turn.
Heidi had said, My heart had broken before that summer.

Strip.
Heidi says, My heart broke me after that summer.

Turn.
Heidi is saying, My heart is still breaking this summer.

Strip, Heidi then despising the sunrise that had come that summer, tearing her
from sea and sky, unto that afternoon--- from you who would be the beginning

Of eternity, that distance(a dollar as a tip for a tricycle driver, Icarus stealing kiss, a lighter for a guard, sleeping on clouds, waking) To this night:

The half-moon had run, away from one, two, to reach for three---
Reaching for the sky, reaching through the sea, to reach the distance between

you and she: the necessary, in truth, becoming more naked in this bloom
---Heidi says that she is the gothic milkmaid in this show, her breasts suckling

raping teeth--- She croons, no more weeping, the half-moon to a love that errs,
The half-moon, perfectly lonely, brought memories of you. It’s all vivid sepia.

The heart remains silent, finally occupied by itself, cold to Heidi’s singing.
Turn, Heidi says, It is all a lie. Even freedom is a lie.

And that if the half-moon has been silent, it is this---reaching, tearing---
The heart screams, When you left, I stopped being happy. And I cannot let you go.

Strip, Heidi says, Of course. You love a siren.
Turn, Heidi says, The heart cannot love you unless you're alone.
Plainly, Heidi says, I love you so I leave you alone.