poetry by beth marquez

Un-Velvet

Because the flush of gorgeous heat 
became excessive. Because of the high wire 
drawn between the spine of pain and prayers’ 
steep cliff. Because the dust ate everything.

Because the last time, you drew hunger’s silky 
shawl too tight around you. Because the razor’s 
shine still sings a high E. Because the socket leaves 
the joint. Because April changed the locks.

Because the footsteps in the hall 
are approaching. Because no one wears 
lace anymore. Because the oubliette is full 
of purple. Because most laughter is cruel.

Because the necklace broke at the clasp 
and laid there like a signature, reluctant 
and rushed. Because of the ink in 
the air. Because of what isn’t burning.

Because the flesh of fire is ever happening 
in a rolling bloom. Because we rarely choose 
the last time. Because the wreckage was sifted, 
and nothing was found. Because the years 

are thundering, heavy on their horses. 
Because the jasmine air does still kiss you full 
on the mouth. Because there are other worlds 
than these. Because night is standing somewhere, 

alone, trying to decide how best to fall.