Her opulence shatters the sound barrier
and races neck and neck with the light. Blue china

eyes and lily pad skin, her hairs are
katniss plants that tumble down her shoulder blades,

reaching to rest at the top of her thighs. Shell
collarbones; creme, off white. Ribbon jewelry stretched

across every scraped sign or deafening
blow. She couldn't tell the difference between

them. Childhoods' clouds mix with nostalgia for father,
for mother, for brother days-- I

could pluck them out of her frontal lobe to flicker pictures.
Her legs reach ocean salt. No one can see the

bottom and neither can I. Her breath
is ephemeral but I pinned back her persona. Could

I believe her words, her, my moonlit liar, killing
me while the seagulls peck her hands to bits and pieces--

my eyesight compromised by seafoam lenses. We're grasping
for wine grapes but we drink off the air slitting our throats.