the earth creates pearls
from cream

and

that is how i got to be beautiful
and round and

everything he wished i
would not

be able to accomplish without
curdling first.

I am okay with blood in soft spaces
like between her neck and collarbone, flower shapes on
her *******, a trail from thigh to cotton sheets,
the sky vomiting sunset
on the carpet where my kitten sleeps.

Just not on concrete, nothing should escape a
person where one could not rest
and be safe
while clouds regenerate clear blood for her veins.

How is it not obvious,
The way I feel?
It seems to be written
On my face,
Spoken by my movements.
How can you not tell,
The way I feel?
The other girl you hold
In your arms,
She is my resentment.
I feel as though you
Are ignoring me,
I feel as though my
Emotions are written
Clear on my face.
I feel rejected.
That glorious day
When we first met,
That glorious day
When I fell in love.
Have you forgotten?
I feel like you have.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

i'm not looking for pinpointed lights
in the sky or my veins like
emission spectra of petals you leave
around my aorta
with daisy chain bracelets
whilst holding my heart like a
baby hedgehog or a shard
of glass left from broke-into car
windows our getaway driver, misery,
scattered across the pavement of your
gaze i met for five exact seconds
i remember, clean as new linen,
the geometry of your living room
seventy-six centimetres from your
glasses or the symmetry of the
bridge of your nose or the sound
of your soft exhalation.

to three decimal places i
was in love with you, then.

the rain need not spell it out in
morse for me to know that. the
sun need not rise to devour sleep;
through the ten factorial seconds of
each six-week fraction of my
life,
i dream of you.