There was nothing to stop me from disappearing
into a trail of bread crumbs

until you flung out a dragnet of knuckle bones.
A snowflake’s down settled over the bone meadow

beneath my skin. I was never looked at like I was moon,
merely tossed over left shoulder

that lucked into being a star, into dying
in the backhand wishes.

Your kisses flipped copper pennies
against rough baseboard of tongue till I blushed

an orchid’s frail bruise. But lover, my heart is hard;
I fear its vessels have toughened into gravel streams,

and there is no space for you.