PoetryAloud

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Lupe Eyde-Tucker Reads

First

It was in a dream

in a low-light room

in a box of matches

from a pocket

It was a rapid friction

a flare of passion

reflected in dark eyes

It was in a dream

I sometimes tell myself

where nothing I touched

could touch me back

It was in my skin

in the evidence of

the scars, the burns,

the scratches

In a crying moment

in a chosen fashion

that a game of arms

struck like matches

in the beating heart

of a dream

pleasure & pain

are the same muscle.

Lupe Eyde-Tucker

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