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