IAM not a man
iam not a woman
IAM.
a whole of every quarter
My children will kill me in ritual or in vain
Will your own light burn you alive,
or the lofted house
made completely of rose petals invite?
Our honesty’s gnashed with white electric teeth
The unbelievable is round round and beating down your ancient box
Paradaisikal reflection
in gilt shop windows
reaches out solemnly to touch
You
from your periphery
while the Earth
curves up
around u like the stork’s stock swaddling cloth
warmed by the Grey Sun