pieces of you do not feel like pieces of glass
or pieces of last night’s meal,

they are not shards they are not crumbs

they do not cut they do not disappoint

you are like velvet tipped roses
or green fuzz in the bed of a swimming pool
seeds planted, nearly peeking through
a new orchard has belched

where my impressions of others have been
sliced by thorns

I am not quicksilver but I am developing
two toes at the exterior of my cocoon
I am changing

up to my ankles in you
all these fragments, finally a family for them

remind me it is a non-invasive procedure
if only for a tongue in my belly button
or beanstalks in my mouth

soon, soon, soon I’ll bloom, bloom, bloom
fertilized from my pieces of you.