Improv IV

it, me nailed in her like steel, her
i belong to her, i
splinter in her skin and
when she moves, she

feels me. it's
unnatural, her
face is pained

but

all i am trying to do
is settle comfortably,

to fit in.


i have managed this peripheral still.
i live, fruitful
on the edges of myself.

a mushroom circle,
a reef of coral.

see me so colorful,
productive at circumference.

i can
maintain myself uncentered,
can't i?

maybe there is
nothing in my grey areas
worth keeping

after all.


like andromeda. no one telephones.
a mother's ideals
set me here.

naked on the edge of the sea, between
a rock and
a hard wave.

no calls, no visitors.

your bottled messages
shatter at my feet
in the breakers.

your words
waterlogged, become
another part

of what beats me,
what washes me,

what keeps me
awake,
alone

and chained.


flamed with rush horror and their thin
mouths in tiny, synchronized o.

immediate, my hush.

moan arched in the back of my
throat, hooking itself along the wall
of my larynx;

and still, the need
to speak,
to reassure

i wasn't doing
what they found me

doing.


going. she is never here. o innocence, your bathinet
fairy, i am,
here to pull
your teeth, and
replace them with

tiny favours.

ten cent pieces for
chunks of yourself.

i will take them
when you're asleep,
unguarded;

leave before you wake

before you realize
the trade isn't fair.

sleep, baby,
sleep.

there are other
souls to
keep.