This woman moves
above me
as if she has cardboard bones, as if
she has grown strings
she moves
like a fifteen-
year-
old girl
being fucked by a college linebacker
after eight beers
and a night
of video games

Her lips dangle words
sheathed, kernels hollow
about Here,
now,
This.
vaporous blats
from a shattered, wooden swan
scouting a shallow lake
soulless
without a mate

I am this bed, this dark
heated
muscular pool of silk
drawing
earth’s gravity
sending my signal tone
up her brainstem
and she
a cluttered garage
who will not reinvent
the apple
as this room swells, throbs
and she
tatters

Where do they come from?
American girls
fingers crisp with currency
hearts
steel cords,
and paper halls
calcified
beneath breast, a conch sworl
whispering
a muted symphonic rise
and fall
breathy lullaby,
from a cracked early on

If mahogany could melt
and drip
from a candy bar
and taste
like chocolate-
dipped
strawberries
she would not
believe sex
is a word
or a theme park for men
where the rides
are women