To win a free mattress, lovers must sleep hidden and apart behind a wall to discern each other by the cadence of their breath.
this heart, its caverns of somewhere laughter, its waking craters, its forest of knives. Dilate its thin pulsing complicities
He loves those first hours after she comes back.
I remain this tender, yearning to mend the flattened red wingage of every lantern fly that lingers on the stranger’s heels.
a lot of talk about peace is talk about talksand talks about the size or shape of tables
your hand swells my neck, pretty, you sayi am, no matter how decimal-small. my eyelash flutters across your shoulder.gravity. you land on my chest skin—
say i was a careless shuttingof language an accidentsound whirling into the guttur
The dead leaves that won’t admit they’re dead are called marcescent
It was late June, the solstice. The day took hours to end. You look like me,my father said quietly.
In those days when I was the academy’s darling I borrowed phrases and made no claims, digressed gracefully from every absent thesis