The deep red along the horizon
where they cut it out of me when
all I wanted was action figures
I could stick pins in and poison
your heroes weren’t answering

their phones or the emails you hummed through
though I did manage the touch to open you spilling

those photo booth deliriums these sensitive nipples
the dew slipping down a sturdy bare branch makes
your eyes water to see it trickle so succinctly and

All the bells and wind chimes on your street
sound like your halting voice snuggling into
itself to escape the blizzard I’ve brought it
On my knees sobbing how I couldn’t be a man
I hear distant trains and absolutely nothing else

It’s like how they say the snow makes the outside feel like one big room
and a cross-eyed black kitten lets you open your door, purring in your ear

And it’s also like I’m clogging something of murders elided in the canopy
where you’re pushing ghosts into my hands, dangling sibilant over black ice

Oh, I defend; I’m pre-paid—Like,
it’s 3-ish, here, palpitating tinsnips;
I got blisters on my fingers, bitch!

I couldn’t be any nicer, these crowds were licking away
my shadow drained strewn along your incredible mouth

It’s like the snow, it clots where you shoveled once you could stand
and grows weird pegs you never have the strength to climb