through skin.
i vision myself as dirt,
ploughed, the motion of heat in air.
the hot taste of essence-laden breath
hhhhh from upturned earth,
the grinding of the plough.
bah! you were never all i wanted,
veronica.
to turn you inside out,
magma spilt and roiling, blazing surface like a sun
hot on the tongue, eyes stretching,
each eyelash suddenly irradiate,
cheeks scored with fire
under the pressure
of that hot vision--
white to black like the plough of a scream through a throat
and vision a blank and sacramental taste:
veronica, i make myself your earth.
(lover, i hold out my hands and
nothing comes into them.
lover, i hold out my hands and
nothing
comes into them.)