eat me, she said
and she folded up her head.

i played at the creases until they bled
my want is a seagull with blood on its beak
not falling on
fish in a creek-
my need is a more prudent bird

you taste like your words
and i believe them, you taste like
direct sunlight hitting the brain
!the best kind of pain!
popsicle-stick headaches
and fat drops of rain

i am ready to ask you to let me in
i am ready now
to collect you on my chin.

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