misshapen, lumpen.

[aslant]

[sun falling across my eyes in this bed
like a hot cloth, a warm blindfold]

-

what you want is the branch-dancing wind
to come through the window to you,
with that staggered thrash and dip of limbs

you want a hand of winter wind to reach in,
jove's chill palm
freezing the flesh from you

pale finished chrysalis,
stale moth's shell;
a hand to push down the shelf of ribs

to the jut of hips and
empty the bowl of your bones
(upended pitcher

dry river bed,
abandoned nest in a high tree,
spindle of cold)

you want wind to scatter self
like ash from an open flue,
a flickering immolation

on this sun that pierces, pierces,
impatient vividness,
brief and heatless winter light.