her blood is not quiet
it bounds, and razes on
sinking into the world like a burning acid
like teeth into tender meat her blood.

her blood is the new tool of the universe
lighting up the hackneyed American streets
timeless in her elegance it is her blood
that makes her timeless, but me--

my blood sits grey and quiet,
quite lazy and resplendent in a thick husk
like an anemone withdraws,
becomes one with the tether or the tie
to the Universe.

no teeth can get in,
no jealousy
i am alone
with the memory
of her thrashing blood
on the other side
of my ear canal