I am in need of so many simple wants. 

    The fire gnawing the wood. 

This body reddening after it has known 

         Dark seasons. I don’t mind the photos pinking 

Away in the closet. I knew a boy by how 

His light imploded into suffering. 

I know the sweet syntax of 

     Marigolds supple with salt & water. 

     In physics class, I am taught 

That an electron can all by itself have infinite mass 

          & charge. & yet you ask me why 

I am so alone. & It’s funny, because everytime 

             You get the same answer— 

Maybe I should be grateful that it is not my head 

     On the platter. I am the axe plotting 

              My way through the body’s dune. 

I delight in the business of fallacies. 

          My hands opening up like hymens in the 

Threshold. I ask my father the origin 

      Of my name, & yet, hope that my name 

Doesn’t become something no creature wants. 

      There is a godlike wetness blooming 

Between my legs, soft, plush, ephemeral. 

         I saunter in my grief the way a good child 

Should. I reach for the field with 

        A gilded song—the thousand symphonies 

Plucked from the tongue’s arch. 

I am old enough to understand the metamorphosis 

     Of change, the bell jar tolling & tolling. 

The body memorizing the sun’s 

          Golden tirade. My body bursting in pleats. 

My synchronous heart beating 

        Two rhythms—one for me, & one for you.