a rolling hitch, eye splice
and under the skin-fur
a noose, there. if i bread you
out like ginger then
cut you here and there
you might be tiny men or
snaps.

my hand is a nest of cramp,
skinny-jean fingers,
shrunk-fit. i pummel you
slight as bird-hopped snow
in the yolky sun.

here i love you. my beak
of twigs, iced gems-
morninghasbroken mice
twisted cherry stalks, a dagger
of mirror, springs
in your thorax gone
ah ha,

i love you. i cannot put my
hand into you. cat-gut strung
knuckled in bunches of words,
we appear and leave,
top-most of trees and breeze, a comet
burns through us, in a while
the darkness bright as an organ
follows.

my saucer of milk. far away
you send me pieces of violence-
a boy-shaped mouth in my fabric
and your lucian gregory blood
spilled out nice in the road.