Diorama of Want
I want everything. Soft soil, a tender you, and sunlight canoeing through windows, deciding who to thaw back into the big, tall whoosh of life—flies, bees. I want to tie a string around your waist—for you to adore my gentle leading. I’m full of hunger and whirled by visions in which I swallow tornados whole—some nights I sleep with strands of wind still dangling from my teeth. I’ve taken so much that my hands are heavy with having. My wants reach the ceiling. And I’m afraid there’s no—Oh, no my hard-limbed love, my tame-sigher, please understand there’s barely even room for me.
God Folds Up
an ocean and places it neatly on His tongue it opens first like an accordion then bursts back into its old ocean self X and I scramble onto our boat made of plywood and milk jugs
floating and hungry and pillow-less we become severe to one another X speaks in capital letters I protect my jawbone with a second jawbone look I tell him we will get back to sod whether by waltz or by wreck and he believes me and it’s true because he believes me it’s simple the rug pulled out from under us was clean shameless blue