The Cold Wet Dirt Reminds Me of Home

We sat on my tailgate outside your apartment
and our twilight words were dripping in my tears
you were skirting the cage of the tiger
that i keep locked up in my body: i asked you to be with my flesh
to nestle your head into my shoulder
together, let's ignore the bloody segments
of limb that we followed to get here
to your adobe house in the desert where i picked
the bones clean

I want to be everything: I am coming unravelled
like the spoon wrapped in cloth caught in a tiger's mouth
i struggle to make my words seen
i don't want your pity
i want to feed the world to lions

CUZ YOU HAD BLOOD IN YOUR EYES
"it ripped right through our flesh, the children of the moon,"
IT WAS THE SAME

I don't know how much longer I can go explaining
that i am broken and slit from throat to dorsal fin

I want the deaths of all my childhood birds back
wrapped in the endless white cloak of winter
"and the strangest things seem...suddenly routine."

I want you to see who I am not

I am not going to...
let's throw a big party

"suddenly i'm Miss Beehive 1963."