my body is curvature.
the yielding dome
rises as i lie on my back:
the shape of earth.
my lover sleeps
in the valley of my legs.
a small fox of hair
burrows into my thigh—
nesting in his dreams.
the moon, a thin slice
of precooked sausage,
is hazed behind
egg whites
clouding the sky;
the sun breaks
sunny side up
about to wake him.
the shell of his mouth
cracks with a yawn—
an embryo falls off his tongue:
a promise.
he shifts, raises his head.
his face, a hydrangea—
white petals adjust;
bloom—as he maneuvers
cross-legged
to face me.
our fingers weave
into umbilical cords:
we convey love.
***
my stomach becomes tender;
nauseous
i vomit ice cream &
waffle cone into the sink:
i've never puked
there—
it's easier
than collapsing to my knees,
toilet water
rinsing my face.
***
i wear a suit of salt.
fat becomes as tender
as crisco, my body
evenly smoothed, melts to the floor:
the old car in the driveway,
with the glistening of oil
puddling underneath,
the metallic rainbow growing
until the tank is empty
and condemned.
