butts her head to my cherry-tipped nose,
tongues inflamed violet, petals a roaring
mane, veins popping like Father’s tree-
bark hands. back when she was transplanted
last April, the moon broke its curfew to
watch her scream: maggot-fingers clutching
her plastic cocoon, infants wrenched from
cradles, howling curses at the marbled sky.
pity how she sways by the edge every
night, how she swallows water like wine.
i grab a fistful of her face, tongue on
tongues, petals dripping from my teeth.
tears like dew on scrubbed wounds;
i smile with violet-stained lips.