it’s summer and i am transcending my body.

by day my sweat falls
into the earth with the heat-pressed force
of raindrops of a monsoon.

by night my blood rises
into the moon with the strained hum
of a tide of mosquitoes.

my body it’s summer and transcending i am.

how (w)horrific to be
marina wholly in
and (w)holily out
the dragon’s mouth.

marina warns what swallowing connotes.

isn’t this why agatha offers
her ******* like a double portion?

how did they swallow being swallowed?

and how did they convince the dragon
to declare them undevourable
without their qualities of flesh?

tracing the lines of poems
has taught me clairvoyance.

now i can flip the cards behind your hearts.

word tricks are math.
reading is the art.

love splits me open like a fairy nut:
from my chest flow forth
the honey and the gold

and my heart melts like a sword
like something that recalls
the taste of blood.

as her ladies paint
her blue blood on her lips
Cleopatra speaks:
“queens die like this:
with the theatrics
of the crowning ceremony
and the proud negligence
of the morning toilette:
the gods-awful magnificence
of a wrist-flick:
draw me my milk bath,
bring me my venom pills.”

it's raining again.
medusa's let down her hair:
strands of raindrops
slithering,
poison on armour.

my insides may curl up like sails in a storm
but my heart is the flag, unafraid to be torn.