Alphabet tattered shoestring, stitched in a window—raindrops spliced from turtle bone.
Dry and unhinged, no shell. Warm grooves, the taste of canela. Your cup, full of a river.
Pyrotechnics. I drink slowly. Unfurl the moon. I write stories. Candles lit in knots conjure
china doll chasms. We speak to porcelain. We listen. A rabbit choked in our throats.
Undone animal. The cabbage rots. A prayer, rolled up in a flute. We write stories.
Narcotic flag hung on fingertips. Our skeleton—tight-gripped piano wire.