seventythree

my lips sting with the taste of your teeth.
nails pull down in every direction:
rip off these iron wings I've
become so accustomed to and tear
me apart with alchemy and love.

as our stripes blend and outlines
disappear I realize the vivacity and sanctuary
your appendages hold.

like clockwork you tick-tock rhythmically and
tune into my every thought, move, word, flinch, and twist.
hold onto this blood, these veins, these organs,
that fight against me and whisper every intention through
pressed lips and locked fingers.