08/08

baby teeth glass

in the bedroom we talk about cell division.
i opened my mouth to show you a home video
& you told me you've watched sunflowers
jump off bridges. sometimes i want to
spoon your eyes from your head & wash them
in honey. so much about being human is
about what we cannot take back. my uncle
has baby teeth still. jagged little grave markers
yellowed from talking to the sun too long.
we make a good pair, you & i. my baby teeth 
know how to play violin. yours bash their heads
on the keys of a piano. someday, when we are old
& call ourselves "painters" when really we just
open & close the blinds. i want to pretend
i'm writing the sky. tell me what kind of cloud
you're craving. my teeth tell tall tales 
to each other like kindergardenters. 
my fingers are in a knot. i have a glass case
for keeping my real set of hands. i confess
i am prone to hoardin8g spares. spare heart
& lungs & ankles. got a flat tire once
on my way to church. god laughed like
sirens. i know very little about my own
wave length. do physics with me.
i hold your hand & you tell me not to.
make a locket of my face & hurl it
toward another galaxy where, a wandering creature
will pluck it from a tangle. cup my face
in his-her palms & say something to the effect of
"i am so deeply in love right now."

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