There are tongues
hidden away
inside cabinets,
fingers pressed
between the floorboards,
members ******
into dresser drawers --

You caressed them
lovingly,
every tooth
and freckle
turned over
in your memory,
you play them over
as you sleep

And every
once in awhile,
their faces
gulp to life
beneath your chest,
and maybe
your heart beat
quickly
for a moment,
and you whispered
to yourself:

thank god,
this day
has finally
come

--

His kindergarten
dreams
his sugar sweet
mouth
his cream soft
tongue,
they succumbed
to you like beasts
trapped beneath
the riverbed

You let them float,
dry tongues hang out
between bloodied lips,
you touched their lips
in the darkness
and the dance
continued
until morning

And later, caught
up in the nightmare
you stared into
the sky. Maybe
the full moon reached
out and touched you,
maybe you smiled

But you said,
thank god;
thank god I am
the man I am

--

And something made you,
starstuff shaped and twisted
until they formed those fingers,
those hands those eyes
the brows that would furrow
in the darkness of that closet

until it came down
over your head
and as the memories
surged through
your mind?

I hope they
came first,
one wailing scream
pushing
through your heart
before you succumbed

thank god,
thank god

her tightrope
was a feather,
balance weighing
on the tips of wings
held suspended
above the ground

summer skin
taut
against her bones,
thousands of stars
threaded beneath
each of her freckles

she found solace
in satellites,
the man in the moon
winking from his place
among the planets

she felt
galaxies
coursing through
her veins, the Milky Way
bubbling up
from her belly

and
somewhere
within --

tiny heartbeats
mirroring the shower
of asteroids
falling
from the sky

The tracks
in my veins
are violets,
lavender scars
pushing up
from underneath
porcelain skin

These angled bones
are fists, I'm
brushing the dirt
from my palms
after I've spent a night
buried in the garden
that grows
in your bed

Red blood kisses
burn against
my snowflake mouth,
each one different
never the same --

Hips blades of grass
darting through my thighs,
beanstalk limbs
shooting up from
the ground,
no one can tell me
when they'll stop

If it doesn't rain
soon, they'll stop
sprouting for good,
a stunted twelve-year-old's body
hanging in the balance
of years left unmarked
in the crater of my belly

Child's fingers
pause
against
the window,
waiting
for the sun
to fade

There is a delicacy
to her hand falling
onto his thigh,
pale edges curving
onto the denim,
shining there
clear as glass

Her tongue
sheltered against
her cheek,
painting clouds
onto the roof
of her mouth,
she's breathing in
the thickest fog

Their fingertips
in the dust, etched
onto the windowsill --
someday they'll be
blown away,
curious children
or anxious mother
clearing away the dirt
of their past

Her dreams
poured softly
into a Mason jar,
his ideas
sifted coolly
through a strainer,
their ghosts pass
through the kitchen
faint as shadows

The bones of her hips
bowl like cradles,
carrying the grief
of impermanence,
sheltering the hope
that someone will remember
the days that have passed

Dots of paint
staining the carpet
will preserve her breath,
folding out into the fog

I kiss like
a thunderstorm,
crashing into your lips
with the force of a
hurricane, I haven't felt
the rain in far too long

There is a promise
sealed to your mouth,
a record you can feel
beneath your tongue

reminding you that
I'll stay forever
locked in your eyes --
I won't move until
you break your gaze

I kiss like
I'm dying, the candle
flickering down to
the wax, no amount of
kindling can revive me
from a death like this

And when your breath
unfolds from the back
of your throat, you'll
kiss me back to life,
falling back into step
with everything
I knew before,

your bricklayer's tongue
chiseled between
my teeth --
we fit
like rungs on a ladder,
pulling me back to the surface

I kiss
like a firestorm,
knowing that
one day
something
will ******* away