your body is a bolt of sheer fabric
shot from a crossbow unwinding

so thin it’s hard to understand
how to hold you gentle

like a handful of raspberries tight
like an arm on an icy sidewalk

at night television light seeps from your cracked
door I can’t shut it but I want to

I want to brick you in and hang a young
picture on the tomb I’m ready please

die tonight so we can stop bending our lips
like question marks around the word love

*Note: This poem  first appeared in Fractal Literary Magazine.