Map

my last love was a map

his skin wide open

while his smile dug into me

I think I punctured my skin for him

I think I folded him into whole

I think I was the name of every city

in there

until he pronounced them in ways

that broke me:

he called Palestine without the second e

called Syria like his tongue was

a shooting range

and these names began to flow somewhere else

weightless than ever before.