Abalone shell lit from behind
toward nomenclature a way of knowing
body types, stitches ways to finish a seam, a mouth
full of pins, teach me a language for all
I leave blank against a mingling
of shop smells pretending to be both
sailing on our stomachs
touching broken fingerboard
certain empty slices of time
exact silence surrounds you
thick, the quiet of cloth on cloth
sometimes to be seen is to be saved
press bodies against words
cast into boughs succulent
with stillness thistled bloom
graft her heaviness to you
hips, breasts, weight of hair
thigh, skin a blank stretch
here rooms are kept cold
extending animal ink and vellum
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wow, i love this peice. It's different from much of your work, the narrative feels more fractured. Some great turns of phrase.
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