Thursday, June 25, 2015

hungry

i measured you in the beds
we stole, you measured me using the inch mark
on your arm.

there is a two hour window in the morning where your freckles are florescent
but only in June, you're like
the Little Dipper in that way,
gone in winter-

i sink in on myself
like sand in an hourglass
when i was a child, i used to shake it and make it
go faster, when i was a child i would touch the thermometer to a lightbulb and rant
about fevers, i never knew a true fever until i thought
of your hands on someone else.

see, science taught me
something is not functional if it cannot do what it was made for
so,
my mouth is not functional if it is not kissing yours
wasting time with you was never
wasted,
it did not just disappear,
the bottom of the hourglass
saving us for later

i spent all night trying to figure out why i am a new person
each time we meet again,
flip the hourglass and crack open an anatomy book
for comfort-

when a bone stops growing,
you must break it

Monday, June 22, 2015

how to eat your own heart

bitter, swollen, hard-
Stephan Crane's hunched beast
i am learning to like the taste, the inside
of cheeks bloody raw, each day reopening the
chew marks. i am trying to satisfy the hunger
with loneliness

with each bite,
"take it from me, take it away, it is underripe,
it is sour"


she bites into it
like a red apple, i guess some teeth
are just sharper.
starving and wild, fox in a trap, what
will fill the hole
when we finish? i will survive this as an
animal, i will leave the limbs that i must.
dreaming of warm fires and human clothes, dreaming of
what will grow back, if it will be strong, if it
will have more closet space. i score and scratch and
cut the insides of my thighs to pieces,
when a clay pot is broken
you must ruin it
so the mending sticks

wipe my chin, straighten my spine, grow thumbs-

"i like it, i like it
because it is bitter
and because it is my heart"