The Fiercest Fables
We fly the aliment kite, coat ourselves in hypodermic
glitter. At the anointed time, gravediggers flee
their posts & we visit our ancestors. I knit
you a tiara of cockroach & thunder. We tell
the fiercest fables, fashion a shrine
out of mouse skulls & tinsel. Your eyes worm
through the clay, knock on the rotten wood
below us. A sapling rises up, the smell
of green & grease. I scrape off the bark,
put it in a jar with the fluid you found
beneath your floorboards. We wait
for the colors to happen, for the explosion
to occur right in our hands.
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