…first we find you:
dishwater, grayed overnight and thickened with leftover cottage cheese
stray hairs, threaded from your brush and rolled into black licorice braids
the sweat of your upper lip
dewed by sleep
milk, soured in the carton
a week before the expiration date
…the priest has left:
the m’s off every third m&m
the malt from every milky way
one hour off the bedroom clock
two seconds from your reflection
the bathroom light, flicker
flicker
flicker
flicker
…we unravel the quaint warding charm scrawled atop your door:
the man splayed across your bed
his face, his spleen
his cauliflowered ears braised in bile
his fingers knotted into pretzel twists
the cow–licked salt of his forehead
his screams
his tart, tart screams
…nothing else remains:
the fractal veins bleeding your eyes
the black vines cracking your teeth
the rasp of your nails peeling the walls in
long wet strips
your
final
honeyed
breath
