egg shells 

i put on my plastic feet to go walk
& ask the window for a pear.
i am hungry & you have your teeth on. 
the tree on the side of the road is sick
& spitting its guts on the asphalt. 
car kill is up this time of year. 
squirrel & boyfriend & grease & cardinals. 
you taught me all the shades of red. 
the neighbor's apple tree starts
to grow fruit & you tell me, "don't
even think about it." i am guilty
of all thought crimes. i imagine the details. 
plucking all the apples
& leaving the cores in the grass. 
i sometimes wonder what it would feel like
to not have to wear a siren on my head.
i know i am loud but i never meant to be
like this. that one time we drove to new york
& the air bnb was locked i cried 
& the sky tucked all the stars beneath her skirt.
i want to live in a marble house. i want to
be in love without geese or needles.
just a place to run. the cabin we stayed in
had so much floor i got down on it. 
did you kneel too? i remember grappling
with you there. i wanted us 
to get married with a tree as an officiant.
it was too soon & what i really needed
was you to say, "i am not going anywhere."
ugly grocery store flowers grow 
from the sink. i keep my egg tooth 
just in case there is a wall to break.
when we kiss sometimes i see ghosts.