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!
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.