tyrants

3

it was the weight of your fingers that transformed my flesh from that of girlhood into the first, pupal glimpses of a lover/it was the shape of your tongue that threaded my soul bare, unseamed the whorls of my skin from my palms/salting my wounds with the flavor of your teeth/your kiss that first spoke my funeral rites and then cast me out from my own womb and into the starry, glorious unknown/burning your air into the first breath of my/newborn lungs/the slope of your eyes that became the blurry expanse of my sky, your hollowing bones that became my burrow –