dire me/3

Mouth full of meadow grass velvet grain the malted color settled in the fissures knifed from her eyes.

My brain and my heart never touch. I see deer head, magpie mouth, pup belly, and none of it reconciles the dream branches, the green-eared ginger-maned elf, twisted into my nest. I sle(e)p(t) beside. Footsore, I want only the pod voices, the tumbling windfall eggs, the ice-rimmed peas set sail in the frost leafed ship of frayed limb-wrack and wreck and ruin.

On, I cover my ears with bloody hearts. Off, my hands are hearts veiny snarls latched leached lit crimson streamlined bulbs many-watts tumorescent bulge I plug my ears with. But voice is heart and I have hearts in my ears and hearts in my palms. Only teeth-escape left for me.

Yearning: else. Woodthroat bull’s blood red. A splinter through my tongue, out my throat. To not die knowing only _____.

Die, Y in my sternum, butterflied, hollows echo my the wanderlust of my organs. I, newly Lung, run, chest-flews flapping.


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