Cut cunning tart cherry tart cunning tried cunning cut near the whine and shudder carmine cut ruby grapefruits in the kitchen split the grapefruit down the middle through the peel flesh watch the juice bubble soft skin ruby red cut pink pith cut and with that hand-holding pocket-knife cut no one ever notices the country sweet side carmine lockbox between warmth that current blooming naming each cuneiform slice anew cut the next fruit never come forward about the poppies in the vase.
I’m imagining a future / where we are both younger, / and the edges of the camera / have a blossoming filter / like a Final Fantasy cutscene— / we are in a field of blond grass / and you are running
I’m all of the above. injured. buried. / singing. vacant. home is where the start hid. / home, where the spark bit. home / misspelled as hold me. I’m only just / beginning to tell it. home is where / you held me down.