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.