Knots

Knots

From my throat, silk ties itself

to the mirror, fingers tangle, pulled by paisley,

& The Nordstrom Guide to Men’s Style;

khakis like a leash, tail tucked under.

On the subway, a man holds a bar

with his left hand, in his left pocket: a silver ring

my eyes fall from lottery billboards

to the indent around the man’s finger

white from pressure, his fingernails sing.

Who are we when we leave our homes?

Is there a place I could drop my striped tie, change

the color of my neck? I saw the silver in his skin.

I must have a rainbow beneath my collar,

a color for each day of the week; With sunset

I break out, straight blade razor burn cut

with the sharpest intentions of running away—

my reflection tightens & paints me purple.

I wake on the floor in front of my closet

with a Pink Floyd t-shirt on, I’m teaching now

remembering when I tried to be someone else -

sometimes, I still see him, that bruised reflection

hanging from the inside of the closet door,

my skin now normal, not their normal, mine,

shining like the reflection of a sunrise, high tide.