getting lucky

i swear i have a million lines in my head

but i want to use this one: skin against

the air of too many bruises, love makes us

curl back into ourselves like paper burning.

no hurt animal but sometimes i am see through.

from your open mouth, i count the teeth of every

early daffodil cowering under the forecast as clouds roll

in over central park, and— walking home— we tumble

over the roots of sulky elms and yellow buildings we don’t

remember. skinny fingers dig to find a question mark

and dolorous birds sing hymns in our branches as they

touch. because the invisible earth devours the visible one,

you climb into my chest and binge. edges blur like ink

into the ocean and making love in the bathroom

of some restaurant, the smell of you sticks to me

and i keep wanting someone to notice.