moth.
Bluelighter
i turn to him
with his body
of knowledge,
his knowledge
of bodies.
lover, i say
i'm crawling out
of my skin, stich
me back up, wouldya?
but his big fingers
are clumsy as they caress
my shoulder in a non-surgical
manner.
i am raw as
an oyster sliding
down your throat.
envious of snails
and turtles,
where is my shell?
there is succor
in silence and starlight.
in the dewy grass and
shifting shadows.
but especially silence.
quietude and darkness
are salve and salvation.
a soothing balm on my
translucence, my throbbing
permeability.
in the gazebo,
i am still raggedy.
my candy heart
has melted.
i am stargazing
with vacant button
eyes , trying to
sew up the places
where the stuffing
has come out.
