I thought if I gave you my body
you would grind it to dust
and discharge the split parts
in *****, cradled by my blood –

soon a garbage pile of us
would creep into the subfloor &
build a mausoleum of muck

jade, and stone, a heather grey –
my peach insides have their
own place.  To sleep, to hunger
taunt their tiny bownecks away

when I gave you my body
you did the same, handed me a
heart and I minced it to grain.