A strawberry bud chest and
orbs of blueberry earth: the terrain,
it earthquaked with flutters. A coquette,

will you throw me in the air like confetti?
I am a tear you do not see swell,

my saltwater tastes sweet,
honey branded twists of left to right –
fill your spoon with this sadness
make believe you are swallowing what is

left of me. Just a wall of stars
melting the apple-grip or banked cloth,
I move with wind breath, bud chest.