in the cool of the evening, He told her,
"there's an art to being still."
(she and the ribcage man choke on apple seeds and venom)

she guesses she didn't learn it soon enough.

"don't ever leave me."
she is small
and new
and can feel the sun on both sides when He smiles and traces constellations on her palm
and the wish is not selfish

not yet.

christopher is candy awful
we live off sunlight and chocolate bars
an evening -no- yes?
an evening of extravagant delight
as plush as his top hat and my velvet ribbon around my throat
maybe

maybe not.

like emily, i felt a funeral in my brain
cerebellum hinged on blue and tea with too much creamer
it's a prison
and nobody likes to visit

except her and that black chariot
with the man who is so kind to us both

and the band
blurry with my michaelangelo eyes

purple dye, Socrates, and backaches  
find yourself
and not the boy.

i sleep but my heart-
we can't.

my sister.
my bride.

i don't need shoes to follow
17
blood and bare feet

my sister.
my bride.

guilt says it'll taste of
blackberry thorns
and  

sugar