he unbuttons my shirt & i light a flame of junebugs

Wednesday, July 15, 2015
maybe there’s duct tape
in his pocket     a butterfly

 

purple & knifed     this   a spoonful
of eleven p.m.
               on a stranger’s lap

 

his tongue clacking
against teeth   a murmur of french

 

bowing into cavities     i see his knife
give birth

 

to longing   our lungs tornadoes
loose behind ribs

                   my lips purple and fat

 
he     a cavity of stranger
                 a tornado called teeth

 
this     eleven p.m.   fat spoonfuls
of butterflies     taped to our tongues

Wednesday, July 15, 2015