eat worm word laced
shoes where hidden
holed tights bury
deep into my throat

i cough your mother's pearl
into the hair clogged sink

in the lace covered
combat boots i
march to the line where
front stands stood
with lemonade
but no one pays me with quarters

swimming through comfort
into the obscene
unseen trees that grow
out of your fingertips
handed tiny forests
homes for tiny owls
who call to me as i concave
collapse
into batteries
but receive nothing

and the influenza
married me years before
for the status
worry you none
the sex stopped with gold
circled phalanges
and no one loves
the amputee

so i cut your hair
in the night
braided
and through the eye
stitching at the elbow
you to the bone