xxiii

run from the leaves, the crowding
linger where the blade has broken skin
the pulse is negligent to your touch
but the marrow still swells by the heat of your breath
in another life, my womb was filled with stone
and so i loom heavy in the doorway of every room
what i cannot grow, cannot foster in moonlight
to be held only at a timid arm’s length
i’ve been a troubled girl, hesitant liar
my weakest silence laid upon your chest
it’s where I can bury my fingers in blood
form peonies from the frailty i bring
clandestine, you’ll keep me all to yourself
hanging from a thread of scorched silver
an artifice of possession so loosely kept
and yet you are bound regardless
i promise my teeth will shift in time
release from your throat when the warmth no longer flows
sink when i am lost in the absence
whole when the surface glows again