i wanted to sleep until the sky fell out of my mouth

i regret to tell you
i'm wintering in someone else's heart.
we are going down to the river
where the coal barges 
used to wish themselves
towards fire. an old flower's head 
rusts in the street & reminds me 
of those photographs we took
underwater. you as the fisherman
& me as the hook. mostly,
i am the implement. knife
to carve wood. tree trunks
drop to the sidewalk like rain
& we don't know how many more statues
we could possibly need.
i remove a splinter from 
the ball of my foot. little ladder
little root. i close my eyes
for all needles. like a planet catcher,
i have no time for miniatures.
give me all your largest ornaments.
this year, apples grow to the size
of babies heads. a pumpkin
snores & swells as big as any father.
you sleep soundlessly. grave dug
in your mouth while i ponder
the depths of a lemon seed.
i wrap myself in grape leaves.
you told me children are better
than adults at the apocalypse.
adults only care about not dying.
that we're past the point 
of atonement. i disagree i just want
to be held like blown glass. 
my dating profile
asked "what are your little pleasures?"
i listed: thumbs, spoons,
& the always impending new year. 
nothing is small anymore. if i could sleep
until my loneliness is over then
wake up in a bed of men
doing each other's makeup, i would 
be healed. lush with company. they promise
a sleepover just happened 
& i dozed through it.
they love me still. paint my face
lavender. bruise-blue lips.
the river is never friendless 
or loverless. down there 
it's memories could swallow us whole.
bodies in the water. the hope
of a shark. dipped oar. escape.