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Poem
There is a Glass Sea, a dead ocean,
It is snowing again but it is barely September.
You blend seasons like colors because I want to breathe again. 

A tantrum breaks the sky open 									 
                           and oceanic shards 
 divide the sand up into billions of stars.
 We lie against wet grains with soaked 
bodies and we pull the lifeless masses 
                                from the shallow.
We call ourselves saviors even 
though we don’t believe it, you hold 
onto your seashells and I think to 
myself that I must love you.

The sun is full, the equators cruel
the equinox is fanatical as a phoenix, 
gold leaking around a cold square persistently, 
we praise the orange
like it is melting. 
Something dark claws at my eyes so I’m begging, 
"tell me who made to blind fold, baby
				Lie and say it was someone else."
You paint your nails and you smell of marmalade and zest. 
You call me boring and we laugh because 
"I hate you, baby, and you are my best friend."

There is a part where I push you hard against my wall and you cry for me.
There is a scene I am ashamed of. 
I need to be needed and I want to be seen, 
so I admire your eyes as if everyone else is featureless.

There are heads of sand, 
heavy dunes bulking up and protecting all
 they’re aware I will cause harm to. 
I don’t remember being violent, I used to share my dark chocolate
and made bouquets out of butter flowers. 

You are here with your wide prairies and deep forests and naïve blinking-
You are an embarrassed catastrophe-
            stronger than the underestimated should be.
You would pin me down and knock me out, 
I don’t understand why you are here now. 

I hate things I do not understand and I hate things I find easy and so
I slap you like you are nothing and so
I slap myself because you are something. 

My intestines are composed by the weeds of this bay,
Irish moss inks into my skin like dirty periwinkles.

Snow dusts pillars by the hospital- I promised myself I wouldn’t think about the hospital. 
Spring washes over me, I do not the recognize the air.
I stick my tongue out to taste for something invisible.
There is a pet cemetery in my front yard- I bury biomedical clones with delicate touches. 
I hold my love out and you sit at my door.
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