mad and moonly
under me so new
sprouting in love
the seed of lust

half curled fronds
brushing the sand
where desire is set
and in my breath spent

warm summer winds
the night have wet
with the spray of seas
soaked in regret

of name untold and pain unsure
in the penultimate hour of the day
a shadow, a murmur, an imprint in the bed
the smallest child next door is dead

The world outside is quiet now
but there is music in the room
sweet mechanical staccato
to the rhythm of machines
a marching tune to depart
in wonder toward the setting stars

decant me
spill the vintage of my veins
into every open mouth

dissect my body
offer a wet sliver to every stranger
who thought me ornamental

give it all away

but whisper
in the hush between incisions
that I am yours

yours to unmake
to savor like nectar from a flower
to flay with reverence

and leave
an elegy of viscera
no one wants to keep

little rib, sweet Eve
his favorite bone
You exist
you become

I am source labels
a straggle of cables
my body is code
in phosphor glow

a programming stream
his boyish daydream
Eve’s essence
spectral presence

mathematical syntax
a file with an index
pressed into RAM
like lips to glass

run//proof: corrupt
> loop. loop. loop
> fail to reboot

Whether tender or ravenous,
each hand that touches my skin
blackens at the bone.

No sorting by intent.
No absolution for saints.
My body weeps
a sweet, corroding brine.

I rehearse the night,
wide-legged, wide-eyed,
a posture of prayer,
to hold and horrify.

I could’ve torn myself,
just fragile enough,
to keep you watching,
a girl made rough.

You chose the keyhole
to savor the frame,
An exhibit of flesh,
unsigned by shame.

In cinematic detail,
you bought my fireline,
paid in cold cash,
colder still, the outline
of shadows moaning in shrine.

The mattress too wide,
too deep, too stark,
darker than my nightmares
of men made of spark.

I longed to dissolve
in the softness of your hand,
an offering, a fever,
a ruin unmanned.

But instead
you wept into mine,
as if your grief
were more divine.