we are not invincible, kissing in this attic,
inhaling bones like wolves' heads
or dimes.

i leave you to use the bathroom,
trip over a metal bucket --
i can slit open my knee so easily,
without trying,
as though it were a church.

i have never broken into a church.
i have never prayed in a church.
i have never been in a church:  
i have never been a teenager,
although i have kissed you,
quickly & clumsily,
with my tongue & with my teeth.

i have dreams
about you drowning in the lake
the way those boys did
last year. your face is etched
like a quarter. i would build
a dress for you, if i could.
when my tongue is in your mouth
someone else's voice is my head.