this is not my life. we are fighting, as though
we are happy, but.my dad is
dying. i love him. as though i am a child.
as though i were a sapling at his root.
as though i were a construct of his being
as i am
i am
happy. as though i am a child. i am giving
as i will not take what i cannot give him
in his grave. he is wilting, as i realize i am
alive, and i will give him every inch of every
root that i am, constructed on the skeleton
he has given me. with life. within himself
as he is
he is
happy. as though he were a child forever.
as though he were a mighty spread tree.
as though we could love each other
beyond the end.

meandering the chorus of his scent, i am lost
between the steeple of his belly
and his mouth

i wander. consuming his pleasure  with teeth,
softly, as though he were a baby bird.


i worship the sunrise in his neck. on all fours,
i pray that the sun sets between us
beautifully. maybe in another life, we

could be a temple of a shared two bodies,
twilight after twilight, upright, hand in hand.

but as it is, tonguing the canyons, the valleys
the napes, and the summits
       his mouth
becomes melody. singing without words
that he will encapsulate me. wholly

much like a tremendous hunter. but gently,
with purpose alight, we surrender. together,

shared steeples above our carnage, heaving.
the doorway to mutual softness   open

a former lover, with blonde and boyish
sociopathic teeth devoured me
into him hungrily, equally
viciously, and as deeply
as I allege to know it is best
that I do not recognize him
--
four years and many changes have
made my once love into nihilistic animalism
--
me, ******* you detached in the backseat
like I have not whispered your full name
from the cusp of your pillow, memorizing
the south, east, and west points of your skull

if only I were more than a wolf in your belly now,
but you are no less than my original predator
---
when the hollow between our liberal, mutual mouth
is not dry and angry,
it floods beautifully.