Anthology

tulips.

open mouths
red, yellow, purple, pink hungry for the watery sun that meanders down through the February freeze.

we push from slumber, wiping dirt-covered eyes escaping our tombs
and both begin to hope.

two lips

i open mine and
breathe your names,
take your long string— shining like polished gold— and pull it from my throat:

it tugs at me, hooked in my gut, sewn in
my flesh and tied in my veins.

i choke on the sound.
i kiss you and swallow you. i push you towards my toes.

we bloom, expand, progress, and peak.

until i can blow you out, lips ragged and aching. finally remove you from my bones,

my thoughts, my tongue,
in a cloud that shimmers before it falls