Turnbuckle

C. McAllister Williams

Turnbuckle


In my dreams, I am always wrestling &
I am always the Ultimate Warrior & you are always Andre

the Giant. We are always hugging. I mean grappling. I
mean separating features from face. You stick your
thumb

in my eyeball. I see so many colors. I fashion you a gift. Singlet.
Destroyed heart. We introduce each other to the consequences of
elbows.

We tie off our muscles, explore pulp. I'm positioning
my face as a bruise. Hematoma. When it comes

time to rumble, we surprise ourselves with razor blades,
invitations to concussions. If I press my head to your head, we
go petechial.

Light gets wobbly, bells never stop ringing. Chairs are involved.
Top ropes. My fists catch themselves, catch bullets like fake

magicians. You give me an ax handle, big boot. Cover yourself in back hair & frenzy. I slather
myself in leather & slurred words. Sweat.
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