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

to become immortal, you must devour
the gods. begin with the god of fear

and when the god of the nile
floods your heart's temple
lay your offerings underwater.

i think i might have a mole.

my teeth are dug out of their rows.
my tongue is pulled out at the root.

my nails are shriveled up thorns,
my wrists wilted bouquets of bones.

my ribs metal jaws which enclosed
something that bit off its foot.

my skull’s overturned,
seeds spilling out of the neck.

what is a corpse but a flower bed?

do not let them name you like they name the stars.

do not focus your brightness
on the tip of an eyelash
when your whole body is a hydrogen hive.

do not curl into a ball of light
when you can stretch and be a night sky.

girls are soft as wolf's fur
subtle as a starburst
fragile as a porcelain knife
and we sting, we cut, we bite;

girls were born with strings tied to our wrists
and we'll gently drag you down;
you will lean in for a kiss
and we'll steal your paper crowns.

when words are slipping down my throat
and no tune stirs my vocal chords
i'll split the atoms of my soul
and i will sing like a thunderstorm.