We stomp and we romp
with our filthy, bare feet
we jump and we bump
in the high summer heat.

Just skin, nails, and teeth
stop when we see blood
we are the ***** girls
rolling around in the mud.

We're queer, we drink beer
in the park in the dark
we yawp, twist, and shout
and we jeer and we bark.

We **** for the thrill
in the sweet with sweat season;
we say it's revenge,
but we don't need a reason.

Saturated plum flesh
bursting between jaws,
we are boundless, we are seeping,
we are love without laws.

Carved from marble,
                                                   marvelous and draped in my covers,
                                        floating above my head in a puff of smoke or
                                                                ­                 as a cartoonish memory

I stay in bed today,
peeking through the blinds.
Surrounded by no one but my
soft and artificial menagerie,
I'm bubbling at the lip.

There are sacks of rice sitting
right above my hips and they're
heavy. Who will help me hold them?
Pressing a thumb to the surface and wincing;
I can feel the grains shifting under my skin.

Today I cooked the rice.
                                                           ­                                             
                   ­                                                                 ­               , I swear.
Heat built up in the *** til steam was lifting off my skin^
Hard crunchy bits to tenderize,
softening under the lid.

When I felt that click,
I broke out my wooden spoon
and ate a big plate.
The warm fluffy substance blessed my full cheeks and belly.
For the first time,
I felt like I wasn't hungry.

Maybe tomorrow when I bathe
I'll grow 3 or 4 times my size.
Water-logged
I will fill up the tub,
ceramic squeezing my fleshy form into a
rectangular shape.

Stick a spoon in
and eat me piece by piece.

Lake-wet and found forgiving,
patch-work body and pasture-raised pleasure,
rolling in the grass and basking in
bare-skinned clarity.
They were right, you are a fairy.

Water filled to the brim, may I drink from your fountain,
may I toss my pennies in,
and is a wish like a prayer,
or should I save my change for rain?
Filling puddles like copper lakes,
putting a snake in for Heaven's sake,
splitting my own rib and calling it mate.

When I first saw you it was just your reflection,
you caught my attention, doubling your beauty with your liquid presence.
I asked if I could come in and take a dip in your drip,
you nymphaeum of bliss,
and you said "Yes, yes but not yet.",
like the breath we share before a kiss,
like the moment before sunset,
like the bed unmade around our shapes,
like the ripples our forms in this pool radiate.

I must grow gills because you took the breath right out of my lungs.

Love me, Pisces, Venus smiles for us.

Bitter, sour, barely sweet,
when I was in your tummy,
you craved that acidic fruit,
and even though we've since leaned towards
different suns and
fermented,
it's still my favorite.

Your twisted seed,
what has become of me?

Growing up your love was a grapefruit.
Pulpy, complex cuts, precision with a tiny knife.
It left a sting on my lips,
but it fed me,
and it gave me vitamins and it was
juicy.
This morning as I consume these two halves I think of us.

Duplicate cells, my pink flesh and thick skin and
biting taste, all from you.
Both of us hollowed out and squeezed until we have nothing left to give, but we're still
bright yellow on the outside.

Sometimes in the morning
I'll crack my back so hard,
I think I might just
snap in half.