famine

in the morning all milk turned to air.
pale white smudges where god
pried his fingers away
from the glass earth.
i used to sit at the kitchen table 
as a round little human 
swallowing roaming calcium.
the cows grew horns. bulls bleed milk
from their mouths. i asked 
my gender what kind of nutrients
it would provide us for these times.
raining lemonade. afterward 
the street smelling of constriction.
we used to drink the cream
from the lid. used to soak out feet
in white. took spoons from 
an angel's plate to eat
vanilla ice cream in front 
of a glowing television. the bees
search for words. i cut a hole 
in the ceiling & wait to be flooded
with grief. mothers turning into elm trees.
my sock puppet lover saying
"your love is only you looking back."
a boat to prepare. a life jacket
in the hall closet in front of
grandmother's furs. the animals,
drinking nothing but maple syrup 
from the throats of trees. their bodies
thinning into twigs. in the end,
aren't we all the fire's bildungsroman?
i'm asking the stars 
what is left to quell monsters.
the stars are packing their bags
& covering their faces
with their hands.