Notre-Dame

Like a pomegranate, I wore my garnets quietly. Nude
lip, beige tongue. I took the shape of clouds passing by.

I was a tool for divination—you used me to find
water & blamed me when I drank. We dreaded

you together. Still, I kept my smile on, even when
you hid the key to my mouth. I was so quiet

back then that strangers were surprised
when I spoke, & friends were surprised to find

themselves strangers. If someone had asked me
if I was happy, I would have answered I’m in

love. Sure, the constant chirp of the smoke alarm
kept me up most nights, but you promised to change

the batteries. Promises were like miracles God didn’t have
to follow through on, sweet bursts dissolved

by the tongue. I devoured them & starved.
My self, my shape, all of it winnowed down

to what would fit inside your closed fist,
but it was inside your fist I found my key.

I broke free like a bell. I ran, I rang, I rang.