sonnet

darling, with your scoliosis and bangs
and your swinging scythe and kneecap cuts
show me your sore legs, and show me your fangs
asleep in your hut, asleep in your hut

oh, to wet and peel your paper hands
and draw figures upon your pale back
to wash them away with snow and sands
and serve as your tired, elderly yak

lady tiger, let your tongue spill out long
spinning boundless and red from your saber teeth
let it sing to me, tired whale songs
and undulate and recoil from me

for i am some minnow swimming downstream
as you boil this creek, breath in its steam