meteor diet

waiting on the mountain's lap 
like an already-dead nestling
feathers still wet from shell-breach.
the cars thread themselves through my veins.
pull the needle. hair on my arms.
mom's blue station wagon parked 
sideways. a dor handle. my best friend
& his water-logged eyes. light the candle.
trace the bone. i have been trying to learn
how to eat for this long. are there birds
who eat like this? want to become 
flight itself. my hometown was a button
on my wrist. all the girls grew & cut their hair.
i haven't loved myself. i still haven't
loved myself. this is why i talk to planets
because they don't bother with love.
once, my father saw meteors above his factory.
said he counted nineteen. i thought i was
married when i was that old. nineteen is
a gravestone carver's dream. i bought
a wedding dress & i intend to wear it
when i'm lost sock burried beside 
too many other people. i'm in love right now
which means i can forget about bowls
& replace them with hearts. a bowl is of course
just another kind of heart. i don't want 
to be checked up on. could i try again
i think sometimes. it's a question to god
but god emptied himself into the lake
& now just looks up at his making until
the end of time. one will come soon & it 
will fill me for the rest of my life.
nothing but space rock from my throat
to my ankles. no calories to add up
just the heft of another planet's face
balled up inside me like cotton. i've always wanted
to feel full. not like eating full but full
like the way a gasoline tank can claim 
completeness for the time being. i blow out
the candle & don't worry about the dark.
once i saw the real dark in the pocono woods
but now the dark is just a suggestion
of forks scraping the bottom of a pie tin.
we could go on forever. i hope we do.
i don't want to think about the bird skeleton.
pocketbook beak. i'm not falling i'm just
taking the long way back home to 
a slumped sibling bed. the necklace clasp
is stuck. don't use my spoon. 
there meteor will be here anyday now.