tsavo

She is longer
Than any song weve sung.

Long,
From wrist to rib.
And shaped
To fit my palms.

The centipede sees as clearly
With his feet
As with my eyes,
Each leg a tiny tongue
We share to know her deeply.

Her shoulder tastes like ocean.
Her mouth:

Like snow and angry.

Sun-starved skin,
Soft and pink
In the glow of space heaters,
Melts as best it can,
Biting with her hands.

If we could cry,
We would,

But growling will suffice.