Body, not graveyard, Stop opening your arms, To dead men.
Body, not coffin, Stop telling others, To rest their heads.
Body, not casket, Stop letting them throw, Fake flowers on your bed.
Body, my body, My horse, hound and house, A cloud for shift, When you are gone.
But why doesn’t something good, Ever seem to last for long?
Body, keep safe. Body, be kind. Body, be arrogant with body, Be concrete in city in summer, Be glimmer of a disco ball, Cascading colors on walls.
Body, be yours. Let the wars wash down the drain in showers, The umbilical chord was an inscripted cryptex, Of skin, of length, of rubble, Of pride that devours.
Body, be fearless. Don’t listen when they ask you, Not to be too smart, To threaten anything, Body, be danger.
Collect the water in your mouth, And spit back fire, Body, be armor, Body made of flowers.
Body I feel, Of two hundred and six floating balloons, And heart shaped confetti, Flutter in between a sparrow’s wing, Body, the reprisal, heavy.
Humming in electric waves, This ambrosial chest pain, Body, hold me, Every inch is holy.
I am at the mercy of our matrimony, Body, budding, gloating, Body, you are showing, slowly, Foregoing the bee’s sting, Your carcass will be honey.
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