Cancer season
Season of breaking from grabs. Creatures graduate their songs
against the shore, hollowed to scour or salt. A sun burns, someone
throws a flame, season of mothering, amethyst season. I buy
the cheap wax. Buy the tongue on a street that is sandless. Shells crack,
seasonless, shavings leaching their water into the glass. I lick the time into
my wrist, cut vegetable on cut tooth: Here, cup season, Here,
thunder shortcircuiting my nudes—Pickled Hour, Once Flooded, Dark Moon
Spit Up, Sour Puddle of Sparks, Birthmark Wet and Deepening—