Never were you made of Earth
you live alone inside me

and somewhere the December still exists
and the moments in which we kissed
and felt each other melt into liquid pouring down

our throats
my heart is a rocking chair it sleeps in

a child, too, your name whispered
the language of foreign
countries
and these women have no word for goodbye

or terrain or sunrises or seasons
so babes do not age  

until streets wind to the mound of mine
you changed, loosened
our two halves make a hole

Where
I eat the breeze

that your lean lips propel
and it flows from my clavicles to toes so
you exist everywhere
but everything’s as solid as gold or teeth marks.