that girl is gnashing fangs and painted lips
when the pastel sun scrapes floorboards
across her naked shoulders. that girl is
sparking static eyes and she holds
snowy screens in her palms,

her lovers bury their faces in her chest
smudging saliva across her shirt
leather-fingers scrummaging
over her ribs, jabbing with 
tongue, thumb smudged on the
doorbell, as his jaw meets dawn,

and he returns, scratched glass mirror
pulling in him by an aquiline nose,
aquamarine veins pulsing as palms
set upon the ice, blood knuckles
and cracked nails setting in the surface.