The Sweet Sound of the Tiger in the Tall Grass

Hand it to me.
Your wound and its colony, your pain, your disease.
Feed it to me,
like a bird, a cuckoo, a vulture, a bloodthirsty creature.
Give it no name,
that's all mine to do; I'll name it and get attached too.
Bring me your sins
i'll make an altar to your cancerous offerings, burn them with the candle.
I am your daughter, your doctor, your priest.
Y

There is something that makes you mine.
Not like you belong to me, but like you make me up somehow, just a little.
There is something about you that belongs to my heart.
Some chip that nestled within me and I've been building around like nacre around mother-of-pearl,
there is something about you that makes me do
the thing that makes me what I am.
If you

Your heart beats so
like a bird under me,
a butterfly in my hand;
hand your heart to me.

For all I thought I was better
than they made me out to be
I would still have you
at the cost of my soul I would have you.

Even if you are
not made for me I would have you
Even should I regret it
I would have you.
I could not regret having you
would you have me.

—Red Rauque

(

You tell him: “I'm afraid

I'm going to hurt myself.”

He says: “Let me.”

—Red Rauque, (You Let Him)

(2024-04-21)

They say they're glad I'm here
this is where I belong.
But I'm a ghost in this place.
They don't hear me talk or walk or breathe.
They forget I exist when I'm in the room.

Maybe this is my house and not theirs.
Maybe that's the truth.
Home isn't never going anywhere else—
it's coming back for your rest.
But I'm a ghost in this place.

I never left — I'm not