Haute Couture

(McQueen acrostic)

 

At the first, a promise to share the fireflies in your brain with

the crickets in my brain, gift the heart-shaped apricot at my

end for your bunspark unpuckered, your stalk of young maple in the gorge

of the river you brought with you. Reach your hand in this fashion.

The discovery of how to really bite dark cherries. Swollen bordercall into me into yourself

day in day out. Arm :: swan :: fumble :: ruddle :: winker :: fist :: throttle into the unforgiving current gathering stones.

They’re spun from their beds and they are comprehended. I know you are

only, no matter how we relish this thing we do. Look at us, our radiant cooling. Relinquish your

clothes. I’ll cut you mine.

 

 

 

Originally published in The Ilanot Review.

Nominated for the 2016 Pushcart Prize.