My Mouth Blooms Like A Cut.

It Was As If A Morning-glory Had Bloomed In Her Throat, And All That Blue And Small Pollen Ate Into My Heart, Violent And Religious

I, In My Brand New Body, Which Was Not A Woman's Yet, Told The Stars My Questions And Thought God Could Really See The Heat And The Painted Light, Elbows, Knees, Dreams, Goodnight.

Don't Bite Till You Know If It's Bread Or Stone.

I Did Not Know The Woman I Would Be Nor That Blood Would Bloom In Me Each Month Like An Exotic Flower, Nor That Children, Two Monuments, Would Break From Between My Legs.

Yes, I Know. Death Sits With His Key In My Lock. Not One Day Is Taken For Granted. Even Nursery Rhymes Have Put Me In Hock.