Dream: the Disappeared Lover
The slope of her back.
against the hurled aggressions of the day.
After dinner, she unscrews
her tin shoulder and pours out her
cracked-bone paraffin. It pleases
me to have her disjointed. Makes
me feel safe to have her
I oil her and watch
as she whirrs. Sesame, pork
fat. We grow our meal, her hand
down my throat, my teeth up
The wet ground holds us in,
bakes us a familiar
We sit inside,
licking the lips off our beloved.