Meg Cameron
terracotta
moreover,
my tragedy wanes
like fingernail moons on the horizon
—it’s still morning and the sunset
is saturated with milk
this seeps in large quantities, perpetually:
it affects me like braille
whatever must have happened
cannot be found in these filaments
(what else is there to care for
besides teeth and fingernails?)
language has a flavor;
imagine tasting speech
how coarse like nettles
how brittle
like fallen leaves
how soft like baby fleece,
or rabbit fur…
an elongated caress
between the means of i and me;
molds link us longer than hiplines dare to tell
my bodies unite…!
i bite my lip;
this is committed for us
& all the good we stand for
but much more likely all the bad
that argues our hearts daily
i ruin everything sacred,
ending my best life just because i can
but it reminds
“i love”
repeats, “i love”
, bouncing off my mirror shell
by Meg Cameron
