I led the babysitter
to where I thought
her child
was.  

I lost my legs.  

they went slowly, as if
I’d taken
a hoof
to the chest
underwater.

I swear
her father
brushed my lips
with the ******
of a bottle
while his wife

held back.

alas, children are not
the most
economical
memory.

male is to female
as gender
is

to genre.

I like to think of your house
as a treehouse
and imagine

the tree.