In the bed: sheets white as a faceless whisper. Think dark and unwashed hair. Also, eyes shot with too much blush.
II. eyes
It’s too easy for me to look into the mirror when I’m brushing my teeth. Lips paired with a dark sigh. Lights bright as the careful hands of somebody newly pregnant.
III. dna
In the evening, I mean very late at night, often you are there so split into two. Get into this bed, then clench your muscles one by one like soldiers’ play. Your arms rest on the windowsill like smoky moths. It isn’t until you clasp your hands like a bird falling midflight that I realize: you are so much less than our fathers. My mouth will be resting inside of your neck but you won’t be able to hear me begging like a cancerous womb.