Squiggee the doubt
stuck against my glass soul
like the insects on road trip windshields
at a gas station in Oklahoma

Smooth your iron hands
over my wrinkled thoughts
hang me up to dry
on telephone wires

Seep me in your tea pots
add sugar to my bitterness
let your tongue undo the knots
I tied like cherry stems

Catch me
like rain in the desert
cup me in your fleshy palms
and pour me down your throat
so I can cool your fireplace chest

Let me in
past the threshold of skin on skin
and I’ll hold the boy underneath
without the brushes of careful words
I’ll listen to your muted chords