sweet effay

a floral poem

i fed a flower stem through the buttonhole of
your blouse. you were carving stray creatures
out of cloud with your nail. let me cut
the crusts off either side of your name
in a way no one else would dare do for you.  
the ends gather dust in an old marlboro 
gold tin box. the only way you’ll always
be mine. i would kill to feel you bunch
my bone-broth hoodie in your fingers
one last time but killing in your name
is what grossed you out and away.
a whale. i crane my neck. all i see 
is a freight-train. rorschachs in the
candy-painted sky remind me i am
not you and you are not i. an icarian
tragedy if i ever saw one drop. i think
you’d floss my veins with barbed wires
if you saw me now. but i just wonder
if you ever found the day’s eye 
dying in your blouse. 

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