Sunday, April 10, 2016


I twist the blankets tight around my legs
I don't blame you for any of it,
your frown spitting cake crumbs
Chopsticks in your curly willow hair
(Salix matsudana). Fingers reaching up
to throttle, then caress, then you spread
your ass cheeks wide with your hands and
the floor tilted, the plug pulled by its chain
from the drain in the claw foot tub,
the room started to slurp and suck and spin
There was the coil of rope, diving through its own loops
to form a knot, your tongue and a cherry stem
Later you murmured sleepy in my rubbery arms
something about a finch with a corkscrew beak
perched on a spiral staircase
laying a single egg, which cracked open to reveal
another egg inside. Then your mind curled up
inside the snail shell of your skull to sleep
and the next morning you uncoiled and sped away
in a line as straight as a rope
with a jug of wine tied to the end of it

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