pillar boy, stand tall. little girl earthquake feet, south coast
sermons. hiccups that crack spines, deep as the lava you compare my
lips to. springy calfs down a dark alley like contacting the spirit
of your mother. the triangle of light under your left eye when the
rest of your face is in shadow makes me want to kiss you and make it
better. like that alone would spread the light. lately there are
always howling wolves at night, wishing they could climb trees. I will
build them ladders when I find the time.