you took your thumbs
and brushed them over
the bruises nestled above my cheekbones

my eyes, half-closed, but so bright
because the warmth of your palms on my face
kept me from losing my mind

i'm so tired
my fingers, my brain, my soul
i'm so tired but you still hold me

We are all precancerous
Just some degree away

The red spot on your nose
The dubious polyps removed

The tang of iron on your tongue
The itch that can’t be scratched

The trick to being precancerous
Is to be your most precocious

Live large; be positive; do
All you can in time allotted

Scuba dive; skydive
Learn how to tango

Follow your bliss
Treat this as this

As everything bright must transition to night,
so too comes the evening of all my graces:
the sands, the salts, the waxing wine;
the hunt-and-pecks in diverse places.

Pour me another cup of almonds, then,
only this time make them into milk....
...why bear the texture of harsh fabric,
when your lips could be gliding over silk?

Once for the witches rabbit hole
And twice for the foxes hymn
While one began to pluck her mole
The other tricked and teased men
Though two and the same
They’re known for different years
And both are to blame
For trickery and fears