softened are the sharp and bitter stones that
cut like glass as people
walked upon me —
a shifting of sands.
sink into me like a riverbed and
i will lull…
i harbored thoughts of you
for months.
they surfaced gently, golden apples bobbing in the lukewarm waters of my
lucid dreams
when i kiss you i taste the thawing of
bleeding…
over time, my hands grew heavy
tending to the roots of trees
that bore no seed,
no leaves, no fruit.
so i turned into the desert,
scorching and unscalable,
stretched thin like…
In the sun-soaked orange rinds of my mind I
still see shadows, flecks of
gray and navy blue
molds, cancers
threatening to eat away
this paper skin
the golden rings inside my eyes…