self-portrait as a fly trap

i have been so hungry i grew teeth on my hands.
come & feed me your shoes. marvel at how
the carnivore can collect any of us. 
the ravenous flower who ran into
a field of knives to become a new gender.
the ants tell stories of me. they say,
"not all green is home." i learned everything i know
from him. from how he killed his violets
& how he worshiped burn piles 
out behind his parent's blue house.  
he bought me a bouquet of myself. i fed it
the house flies & flour moths. i let the mouths
burst from every wall of my bedroom. 
then my skin. i tended myself. hunted
by the porch light. told no one what i ate.
everyone else with their feet in the dirt.
drinking yolky sun. 
me, the little starvation waiting for a footstep.
i was always ready to close my jaws.
to lock the door. to let the phone ring until
it stopped. dear god what it takes
to admit, "i am a fisherman." 
a fly lands & i tell her, "do not be scared."
close around her. she is me. 
she is a little communion dress. 
hands raised like eucharist. i eat her face first
so she doesn't have to see.