poem: come like death

come like death unto my

sex—I would take

your eyelash in my—stomach

as the light heaves down

over blue taunt hills

as sheets well up in my—fingers

like glass

the cracking of your breath

along my legs

the cracking of my rosary on the


fallen like a child’s fingernails—

the fingernails dimpling—

into my pink breasts,

gasping over and over as I—die

to this sanitized dawn







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