this sort of desperation leaves burns over my skin

soft velvet; ebony like

bruises at midnight—

pooling on that alabaster flesh

like spilled ink on snow.

glass half-full

sinking like the hull

of this paper boat.

scissors on the counter

running from quivering fingers,

bleeding this rust

into cracked porcelain.

girdling the drain like forever

is imminent

and clicks of time

are etched against your tongue.

gouache anointed thighs,

grecian hydria

pouring salt onto your

parted lips.

dry your throat and tongue

a mouthful of cotton.

rub taupe pages between

paper-cut finger tips,

crimping corners into

serrated denticles.

leaves into eye sockets,

notes worth thousands

flap out of scalded wrists.

(12July2020 7:45PM)

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