my insides creak, like glacier

sliding past glacier, touching

with the raw ache of same

scraping same

and becoming less



and you are gently touching

the stars embedded into my shoulders

like opals, or aquamarines—

but never diamonds

(because diamonds are too precious)—

and you are hurting me…

I want you to touch more, this is not enough,

this is too slow for my heartbeat,

a fever-pulse



everything is embarrassing—

the night tangles itself around telephone poles

and I feel ashamed of how it clings to everything;

stars arching like a back, in slow motion.

my mouth hurts, like I’ve tasted

something I shouldn’t have.