take your shoes off at the door

let's escape back into our
bodies tonight-- i want to show 
you something inside me.
go ahead--
strap me down in the dentist 
chair. this time i won't squirm
quite as much.
fight sleep with me-- 
fight laughing gas--
fight anesthesia 
     fight the rustling
of the moon in my back pocket--
here hold it for me & give it
back when we wake up--

often when i lay on my back
in bed i feel light bulbs
bursting from the ceiling &
there i am again getting
a cluster of teeth pulled out
or a hole drilled so far
in the back of my head that
i didn't know 
i had teeth there--
mouth fulls of the taste
of gloves.

i'm inviting you inside-- peel
my mouth open & take off
your shoes before
you enter-- one 
step
     at a time-- use my teeth
as a staircase & slide down 
my gravely tongue.

what all do you keep in the
small cavern of
your body? 

how much of yourself
have you eaten?

take notes on the stalagmites
& stalactites & forget
which one's are on the ceiling
& which ones grow like 
crooked dog's teeth--
remember to hold
hard lemon candies beneath
your tongue or in the
pockets of your checks like
a secret-- growing thinner
& thinner until it is spoken.

i wanted to show you what i look
like on the inside-- all
pink & full of watermelon vines
from
all the seeds i've gulped down
without thinking-- 

trim the apple trees trying
to take roots in my pelvis--
visit the grape vines making
a loom of my ribs--

take me in-- 
fill your backpack with
fruits-- 
write down my laughter
as it descends down
the lining of my throat--
make sketches of the fears
god etched in my bones with 
a paring knife--

before you go 
i want 
you to walk back up the staircase
of my teeth-- crawl higher 
& take a seat behind
my eyes-- 
adjust them 
like your own kaleidoscopes
a handful of color--

i take the moon out of my 
back pocket as a snack
& everything inside me
turns bright & brilliant--

have you been brave enough
to eat planets out of the sky?

put your shoes back on
when you exit-- 
i'll still be laying looking
up at the ceiling--
half expecting it crash down
on me-- half expecting the
sun to come barging through--