when my head is stretched out
rolling in your hands? Or will you pull back
so, that I snap as a rubber band, landing
in your trash can?

Will you read me
when I line myself as a V like a flock of geese
flying above? Or will you run from
the droppings of love?

Will you read me
when your eyes are glazed
in honeydew? When your cup of coffee
is thick as stew and sticks to you
as the deodorant in your armpits?

Will you read me
when I’m carrion and the vultures
are circling? Or will you throw everything I wrote
in the flames, to heat your home –
on paper notes?