brutalist love poem

if you hold me at an angle 
i am perfect i promise.
i walk around the house
with a knife in my mouth.
it goes right through my tongue.
what if you held me like? what if
the peaches came this year in squares?
we could stack them & make a real house
instead of the tunnel. i paste a picture
of us as shadows in the hallway
you never notice it but i do
each time i pass by it grows
another pair of arms. soon there will
be enough to pick me up out of myself.
once, i ground up a rib 
& snuck it into our dinner without telling you.
you thought it was the most delicious 
i've ever been. sometimes you will 
blind fold me & walk me out 
onto the roof. wind shaves me down
to just a thumb. you take the blindfold off
& all i can see are search lights.
in this kind of place there are 
no memories. i tie them into knots
to try to keep one or two. that time
you held me & treated me like silk.
the other time when you drove me
into the lake & told me to get out.
"if you listened to me you would know how."
i couldn't remember what you said.
the car alarm going off. i stand in the front yard
& i cannot believe the house is standing. 
it is built of haphazard yearning 
& a lot of folds. corridors that snake.
god's forked tongue. do you remember 
the egg? how smooth it was? my fingers
across the surface. i don't know anymore
if it was real or if it was just what i invented
to keep myself alive. the earth gets rounder.
another door grows like a scab 
from the ceiling.