plural starlit anus. your oil
spilled in florets. we have named several
tastes we cannot see. many of which
fleshly. of yearning the surface
off with a blade. our hair chimes
against the fennel. the daughter we
couldn’t have, grown from marrow,
courgette, slalom. we need flatness.
with your body–
cut. the same bodies we thresh
with. the same we split
wood with. folded rivers where
you carved hearts from artichoke. come
back to your bed, dearest. we only
bloom once in a lifetime. our organs
have known dirt best, & burial
seems like the wrong word. the clouds
trellised with light. the hairs plucked
from our carrots. summer came
& went & so did the squash.
whatever we don’t intend on happening,
a weed is planted. the blood we’ve had
taken away. the roots blinded
in the wallow. we could go
deeper. the world is almost over.