thoughts

 

i’ve reserved a space for you at the bend of my neck
it’s kind of bony – your hands oppose my bones,
your hands instil in me a quiet
beyond sound
your hands your voice
there is your hair in my eyes,
looks like my eyes are seeing branch shadows
when my lids shut, it’s like i’m in elle
woods’ wet dream,
pink and patterned

fingers press down on each of my vertebrae
your nails carve a trail from the back of my hairline to
where my back gets convex, re trace it backwards
back up to my hair, return to hair, move hair
stroke pulse
i think i’m getting a headache that’s already dissolved
your fingers are like electric balls
my head has never felt touch
it’s like the greatest organ
and no one cares about orgasms

today yesterday hysterectomies
surgeries – extricating from organs –
gallbladder bladder heart
bleed purple, bleed like a half-breath
when you breathe in leave your thoughts
in your bladder, oxygenate your piss
leave it out in the front yard
to evaporate

faces have organs too all over the world
there are little face organs peeing breathing
feeling someone’s hands on the backs of their necks
feeling the dead trail of someone missing down their backs
scares them like they were touching a gravestone
they were
their feet were on concrete dirt gravel or carpet
their mangled toes, dirt under the nails – dug in to the black sand
tar, like a swamp of boiling suck
up to the ankles
the shins
their fat hips
their too thin thighs
their angular chins

their sighs.