lazy as this pink snapdragon                 stretched across
its soaked bed                you lay your head                  over the arm
of the corner chair poised                   in our sweat our sunlight
your glitter my               smeared gloss the string of ants on
the window sill look                 like a piece of your hair
long obedient oily      there’s a missing brick beneath
the latch rust         as tough as my callouses and damp
to the touch in this         120 degrees of freedom
my scissors          magnificent I grab the flower by its neck         lift it
above the wire and cut       one of the ants pirouettes
on the plastic eye of your teddy       your fuzzy blue octopus
on its head         tentacles showering        around its body  
staring at me like a master in her         vision       you’re
wearing the same blouse your mom did in this photo
I love that actress the one that       reminds you of your uncle
but           I don’t know her              name
your leather collar open across your pillow        like my
legs were hours ago         on the bureau there’s
your READY TO TAKE SHIT belt buckle         bobby pins
and a pile      of your cuticle bits     you wore it last time
I saw you with the Tims and baseball hat         that was
the summer I met death a third time and died        now
sweat shines on my forearms                     now my veins throb
under this        muted plastic like                worms when they reach
the top soil       fingertips yellow from pollen           brown
with dirt                 dry from fertilizer            thumb sliced under
the digit          fever, wake me           in my sleep and               I’ll
swallow your spit              lick your lips reach             behind
your neck           grab hold of              your hair