chop my head but
i won't bow
belittling oceans with
seafoam eyes and
coral lips with
gentle waves against
her hair and trenchant
currents within her
skin. her house
reeks of ancient
anecdotes and faulty
antidotes the hums
of birdsong within the
walls enough to
rattle my bones.
her fine drawn
words causing occasional
seizures to riddle
through my
lungs. she used
to fall in love with
wallflowers "they had
all the right words"
she said. but now
all she has are her
friends under the
floorboards who play
with halos in the
basement and climb
up to the attic
heads in gilded
cages she pushed
them off the
rooftop what is the
sense of flying when
borrowed wings rest
between their
shoulders. she came
back home when
daylight died
stained with
moonburns and
splattered with the
essence of juniper berries.
found myself
up at four am
trying to drown her
out in dwale but she
subtly learnt
to swim.