Shell

Scalloped crenellations
barricade our shoulders
biggifying them like Chicago
so that when we walk down
this city’s streets, we move
through a space flowering
like petals of poppy.

We are light and shadow—
the image of ourselves
and our own negative.
We occupy the imaginations
of others, our eyes stitched
with gravity and clinging
to the source of sound.

What if we clam-shelled
closed, hid our pearls
inside us, held our beauties—
unparalleled yet riven—
for each other, for a future
engulfed in the warmth
of our dark embrace?