Note: The first two lines, in bold, are from Richard Siken bot (@sikenpoems), a robot Twitter account that, I assume, tweets out scrambled lines from Richard Siken’s poems.
The rest of the lines are mine.
it’s like I’ve swallowed your house keys:
the thing that opens the door that takes you
some place you have always looked for,
never realizing you left it long ago.
(the bookshelves are dusty, the bed
my black-eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing
for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw,
and this is the map of my heart,