There is no hell in Marella-

“When you can taste the smoke on his tongue,
sweet beer and felt from a pool table,
you take what you will, submit to what you cannot control,
let him protect.

I like it. In ways it makes me think of the guitar strings.
They played outside my window, in the street,
a trio, I think,
a voice
a guitar
a flute.
Through the crimson screen of bouganvelia,
the painted sky,
I could see their backs.

He does not wish to touch me at times,
and so I wash plates, I eat meat, I smile.
I do things I would never admit to friends.
When he does not wish to touch me,
there is no dark alcove of kisses to make him real,
no humid touch or guitar music.

I tell you this because you are my friend.
I wish I could show you my window,
the childhood view, then you would know,
you would know that it's about
forgiveness.”