I prefer to ache.

The panic dreams ask me
what they should do
with my collar bones
while I sleep.

I wake in four mornings
in a row
with no memory of
where I am.
I am trying to describe…

The pearl of the oyster
sometimes doesn’t
reveal itself until you
bite down, break teeth.

I gave myself over to
gravity a long time ago.
Pushing me through
currents I can’t name;
have no desire to name.

I am coiled inside a cloud.
Moths pouring from
my lips with watery tails
reminding me I will
never be made solid.

In all the ways
we can not be held.
In all the ways
I am always enough.
In all the ways
I reach out like we’ve never met.

Maybe we only break
open once. Wrap ourselves
in silk spiderweb,
complete acceptance —
fated bloodletting.

I love
the color of water.
You’ll never
pin it down.

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