Nailed to the sheet with the blue trim,
I held your skull with regard for the birds inside.
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, blood of my blackest blood—
I have the urge to put chemicals here so you can see the bottles, the cc, the stain in the test tube with the precise fluid. How can we counter this? The girl swallowed the acid and charred her tongue. She sang to me the other night under the stone vases on the balcony—It was like France except for the blood hardening her throat. We drank water and stared at our hands.
I have dragged it out of you,
pulled it out by its knotty braid.
I gave you sand.
I gave you water.
I stuffed the horizon down your throat. You asked me questions twice.
You gave me sand.
You gave me water.
You held my hair as I shook the plane’s wings.
I asked you questions twice.
You are the hidden lover.
I still cannot say if you are human.
I’ve burned holes into you the size of pears. I’ve spread you wide as your tree.
I gave you rough fruit
to bite the air beneath my flesh.
You gave me the taste of blood and roots.
Honey, can we stop all this? The child is trying to sleep. Where is he?
What is my boy dreaming?