Passports Ready


Take your sole real diamond, beautiful, and let’s map out a border.

A line between the lipstick and the lips,

The blusher and the blush,

And stop calling yourself Dorian Gray.

That evil was his own, in those lines and furrows,

The syphillitic smile and those hands,

dear god, those hands,

He thought he painted portraits in blue and green and purple.

Patrol guards drip with sweat, staining their press-ironed khakis,

A hatred

That they thought unlearned.

You just knew how to cover

A multitude of sins

With Max Factor.

Take your diamond-decked hand, beautiful, and make a fist;

Take a deep breath, a willow tree


It does not break.