I drank the full moon last night
before I put you to bed.
Sunflower heads &
roundabout ways saying “I hate you.”
Lemon shavings patch
the seams of my skull.
I scatter my lovers with
letters & fire & wait
for them to turn into Wood.
Dizzy from silver suns,
streams of smoke
coming from the gun
down the road. She was being chased in circles by her neighbor, her uncle, community pervert. The virgin slipped and cut her foot on a sprinkler in the garden. After a while, she gave up and laid back on the itchy green grass and prayed for her savior to come.
Back inside, she stared into the corner of the window, where a slice of blue sky sat. She stared at it until she wasn’t in the shed anymore. Lipstick circles turned into blood. She hooked his neck with her arm and whispered,
“Now it’s your turn to be the quiet one.”