last night


I wrote you a poem with my fingertips.
I traced the words over your lips
and did it over and over
like I was begging for a kiss.

begging for you to dance circles around my tongue
but boy, oh boy —
how do you ask a man to stay in your mouth?
to set up camp under the stars
that are the roof of it.

how do you ask a man to crawl
and creep between the thighs,
but like a good-creep
like a can-you-kiss-me-good-night-creep.
come on, creep.
you can sleep in my lungs, creep.

how do you ask a man to stay
close to your bits
and your cough
and your headache
and your butterfly stomach
that used to be filled with caterpillars.

I grew wings the night
you pulled me aside
and said, "Hey, it's me"
before I could even ask
"Where have you been hiding?"

How did you find my cocoon?
And where did you put my arms?

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