heaving wolves inside of a jewelry box
by your bed, your ears bent like girlish
Chinese feet, so you can get them closer to the wall
and you stop and see your sihouette, it might sell you out to survival
when you live with giants your body language changes
but her life is still not free of violent verbs and forgetful nouns
speak for you
she lets down her hair/layered like spiral cut ham
and her mothers silk scarves hold you from the edge
they smell like her neck and the famished rural pipelines/white and full
and in that moment you asked why/we had her alone/spread like hot glass in the wind
and the moon put its face to the sun
pulled all the airplanes out of the sky and cried for your sister who had
one weak heart and two great heads hovering above the house
I can still hear her head
sending out solar flares
I resurfaced and burned
the sheets glowing red, then bursting
the moon cried, chewing on scrap metal
spewing oil.
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