worms

boys catch girls in butterfly nets all summer long
in overgrown gardens made from coral
that bleed to make stars

telephone wires catch birds &

at the warehouse parallel to a broken glass river

the night flora is boxed up

small thorns pierce your fingers

& when you swallow them
they tear open your stomach

that blood feels like love

wrapped in cold blankets like a stillborn

the soil will kiss you on the mouth
some girls are:
turning to black lead at the bottom of the river
bees sleeping on your tongue

some only exist when they're gone