i'm at a loss for words

i'm at a loss for words about 
did you see what the whales
are doing? in my bullet proof vest i went
into the school yard of my dreams.
there, they say every wound is a firework. 
i celebrate. i celebrate. holding my escaped uterus.
then, the tv became a siren so we carried it
out to the front yard in order to sleep.
to you & yours & yours & yours 
& whoever's job it will be 
to hang the moon when i am gone.
these were precedented times.

caesar dressing

tell me how to eat mania. to take it in. 
i ride my boat onto the shore of a plastic island
& say, "i love you so much." piranhas swarm 
like school girls. pigtails & purses & 
sitting alone at the lunch table where demons 
gather & tell me i am visible. lately i have 
considered exiting only between the prongs of a fork.
wearing an ice berg. fill my pockets with anchovies
to free in the bay. saying, "go be homeowners."
their eyes staring back at me. shredding moons
for fringe. the fish are a universe. 
i am just the digital pasture flooded by cream. 

disposable television

i star in a grand moment & everyone claps
& says “i would like another.” splitting a bag of chips with god.
wiping our hands on our thighs. it is a marathon.
out behind the house i tend my empty screens like graves. 
see my warped reflection there; the onyx dream of a prophet. 
instead of payment for my body, i accept donations of fear. 
what will they see me as if i? an angel asks another,
“did you see the performance?” driving to your recording,
i used to pass through a town & think, “if only i was from here
then i would know what it feels like to be captured.”
put me on the screen & make me iridescent. the mountain sits.
static on my tongue. we walk between the emptied.  

mermaid

i spent all night binding fish until
they lay still in the water like a photograph.
i held my breath for nineteen years always waiting
to wake up in the river. surface is a place 
where you finally inhale or else bury yourseld. 
swimming, the sun is a bear's maw. i roast a rainbow & devour
as if it were the day's catch; this is what a promise is good for. 
singing comes from all my drains so i plug them with socks. 
it's august so the grass begins to tell rumors all night. 
"the poet is really a girl inside a boy inside a girl."
in response, i cut my tongue out & release it into the creek. 
cross my legs to picture the fin but it doesn't come. 

ridding

i wished i could paper-airplane my face away. 
then, all into the night, my sleeves sang 
like song birds. no sleep. you were promising that
we would have the big big house & the icing.
licking my fingers, you told me i wasn't a lady.
i looked down to find myself in the body 
of a feral child. all my words turned to beetles
& crawled out of my skull. i believe in
ice berg poetry. how a word can surface
to show a deeper depth & a danger. i crash cruise ships
into trees. no one is on them. i am a wad of pink.
yes, please, swaddle me aluminum & call me never ever ever. 

teeth restaurant

to learn how to eat, the great dead dog
walked me down to the diner. you were there too.
it was neon as all heavens should be. 
i saved my state quarters for this kind of angel. 
offering bowls from bike helmets. we took turns 
pleading for spoons. silverware of all shapes & sizes. 
the waitor asked if we were sisters or lovers. 
i confessed "we are neither." i wished we were lovers. 
you insisted on eating with your fingers,
plucking teeth from a golden plate like turkish delite. 
then, feeding me & asking "whose dog is that?" 
"what dog?" i lied, stroking the dog's back. 
 

flight simulator 

i was the sky you were pretending to navigate.
eating bagged peanuts & talking about
the next destruction. i used to never
lock my face. i let ghosts come & go as they pleased.
now, i have a ring of keys. i add a new one every day 
so the true key is harder & harder to find. 
looking down out the plane window at a bruised knee, 
clouds all around i watch an eagle die 
& fall as an envelope. meanwhile, the mailmen are searching
for the house we used to live in. now, a leveled field.
A rust broken pipe still protruding from the earth.

molds

i poured the old planets 
into shapes of sea shells.
we were soap making all night.
fingers like luna moths.
everything as lavendar as i've always wanted. 
let me be the sarcaphagus that washes your hair.
make me wild & purple. i'm filling the vessel
i've been given. disciple-waiting to emerge 
a daisy or a skull. then, curled caterpillar. 
each of my burials as fountains.

bee bones

i made a chandelier of stingers
in the graveyard of sweet 
& "i'm sorry." the hum 
of an ancient candle.
i insert a wick in my tongue
& beg for the fire. there was
a pair of earring made of bees
& i wore them into the sacristy 
where a priest made a pill bug of me.
crosses that buckle into xs.
here is where we will dig until
we find the underground kingdom
of gold. when i say "gold"
i mean tents. you taught me
how to peel the sun. 
thumb & thumb & teeth.
i taught myself that gods are
the thread at the end 
of the needle. what is pulled
in & out of the land. 
a necklace of bees. a graveyard
of bees. honeycombs dripping
with gold. my father's gold tooth.
the chandelier swinging.
a wing made of dead wings. papery 
to the touch. everything i love
could be blown apart by 
a strong wind. i feel my bones 
leaving my skin & tumbling
across the corn fields.
nothing has grown yet. 
we still have chances to run.
then, look for ticks 
in each other's hair. a fatted jewel
at the base of my neck.
for divinity, i learned to drink
only as much blood as i need.
this is what i let the bugs do.
fall off as gem stones.
if i could just be the river 
i could give as much 
as i want to. in our house 
we speak insect at this time of night.
join the summer chorus. 
every breath goes too fast. i hold mine. 
when i was small i used to think doing so 
would make time go still. 
sitting with the bees & holding the air
as long as i can. my lungs like two drums.
the bees say,"to drink is to release."
i exahle & say, "show me where 
you keep the candles."
i am wearing my altar boy robes. 

security system

we are not safe.
every window is an opporutnity 
for knowing or passcoding or
prayerbook. the holy water
full of eels. mailing a letter
to a dead boyfriend.
he used to climb in through
the chimney & say,
"nothing could keep me
from you." the line between
horror & love is a wooden bridge.
i put wires in the door frames.
lit fires beneath doorknobs.
a dead bolt. a bolted dead.
lock the front door with
a parable. there was once
a boy who let everyone in
until he lived in a house
crowded by ghosts.
not every thought should be
a guest. but they ate pillows 
& used up the toilet paper.
wrote their names in blood
on the mirrors. washing over
& over. the boy tried so hard
to be clean. finding a mouse
living in a keyhole. 
he left the house & slept
on a park bench with the crows 
laughing above him. ate street signs.
his throat said, "stop stop."
no stopping. left the house door open
& so more came & he watched
from the road. everything is ripe
in june. a bowl of keys.
a strawberry. knots in the old wood.
but is alright. it is okay.
cameras are watching
the bushes for rustling. there is
a thumb print machine ready to 
print a labyrinth of your  
spiraling mazes. nothing happens 
without someone seeing it.
at least not here. at least not
anymore. i go out into the yard
& watch the empty house.
light a candle & the cameras say,
"it is just you." relief rushes over me.
i go back inside & thank 
my wandering technology.