I desire violently and I wait.
I know how to be the inert object.

The sound of heavy boots
Which haven't been worn in a season.

Am I a stupid girl?
No, he says, you're a beautiful fish.

Every song is worship
If you know how to listen.

Am I worthy of inhabiting these eyes?
Of inviting you to see what I do?

Please treat me kind
And don't mess with my mind

Because wounds itch
When they heal,

And my wanting for my next one
Is a force to be reckoned with.

The edit is always created
In real time, isn't it?

The roses are blooming today
And the irises are starting to wilt.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear
Am I really so contrived?