i gave birth to body white collected to my thighs held her there, between my legs, and brought my knees up high and she slid out, i don't know how (my body is not big enough) you left yr meat all in the leaves, gathering sweat from the graves you body cistern, i brought you a sister from what holes i could not crave but i'll go, and be brave: i only have faith in what is good - - - - - - - - - - - i knew a boy who built an aviary he gathered all the wood that he could carry i pulled from his chest to get blind from the bees and we exchanged helium because we're tired of ceilings i found him bucked out like a jarhead his antlers found seaweed from an ocean bed and he carried carvings of his own geography but had he stabbed his own eyes out so he couldn't see (blind-drawn maps all over his hands) - - - - - - - - - - - i said: i don't want to be yr wife i couldn't stand to do this my whole life my breast milk is heavy and you don't have the strength to help me with this baby - - - - - - - - - - - and when we pull out of each other, i ask you if you can tug me off you ask me if i can put you out like "what fire" and "drag the shit from each other" "all the fluids from your mother" i can barely stand in your lake disease again w/ yr vomit up to my waist - - - - - - - - - - - and in the hospital they ask me if i know where your parts go but i tell them your body isn't made from skin they know