Levi Todd "Red Rover (or For the Ex That Said She Was Turning A Gay Boy Straight)"

On either end,
a thousand yellow traffic lights
cradle doubt beneath their clucking tongues.

Their furrowed eyebrows beckon me,
calling with crooks in their fingers
broken like question marks.

They think my mouth a suggestion
box for their own gospel,
even when my jaw no longer hangs 

open on rusted hinges,
when I am not pandering for oil
dripping off lovers’ tongues.

I’ve felt the calla lilies blossom
in my wanting palms.
I know that more than asphalt grows here.

That jaywalking without a destination
in this liminal space is no crime;
it can swell with intention.

But regardless,
a heart with a blurred border
is always questioned.

The pedestrians can keep waiting
with lockjaw when I refuse to turn
away from their gaze.

I will bury my feet here, unmoved
and uttering a covenant of love
from the middle of the road.



poetryHannah Schneiderpoetry