Her tongue in cotton,
a crack
between her jaws:
A boy left the scar on her chin
slick and gleaming,
shriveling like a moth on fire
in the burn of those words
he lit that night
e.e. cummings was on *****
windows, blurred,
and everywhere he went she found
hope
Her heart a scoop
in a honey jar,
something thick and sweet
to toss onto breaking waves,
only to end up back at her feet.