I like to dress myself like an open wound – 
Tight, 
Hot blood seeping through the breathless gauze
Of my lips, my cheeks.

I like to keep my ears 
Pricked,
Like a needle,
Like a jewel,
Like prey.

You wouldn’t believe how much they 
Like to see fear in your eyes and

A blood clot in your open mouth.

It reminds them of a cherry,
They say:
An invitation
To tie a stem into a knot.

You see
Our blood is metallic
And so when they smell it
Their daggers vibrate and rise
And lunge towards you
Like magnets.

I'll admit,
It’s dangerous to draw knives out to you but
It’s more dangerous 

Not to see one coming.

Starting to speak outside of repetitions and solipsisms.
Took me too long to learn the difference
Between soliloquy and syllogism -
Between shadow cast and mirror image.

oracular

"oracular
redolent of purple cane"
or was it
"fermenting syrup"
or husk or dusk
or burning aspertame?

I tap the maple like a keg
and search for the vein.

I want to be capable.

without a hammer or hardhat,
it only takes a handful of sugar
to inactivate a whole vat
of concrete.

I want to be exactly that kind of sweet.

a tree filled
with unassuming
destruction:

lazy veins of glowing amber,
slow blood

to boil
and be distilled.