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