liquid snow
freshly washed sheets
a blank page
the foam perched atop your latte
porcelain lambs & nativity scenes
pure & innocent
unblemished
untarnished colour

now,
hugs the glass unwilling to let go
a bird’s broken rib
lumpy & slimy
the kiss of leftovers when cleaning the dishes
the lick of wet socks seeped in piss & bile
unripe tomatoes riddled with worms
they scream as their meal is dispossessed
the colour of phlegm tainted green with sickness

bitter clumps like homemade rafts & foreign symphonies
assaulting the senses of the unwary.

every morning i am thankful that you are not hundreds of flies swarming
in the form of a lover draped in a tattered trench coat.

your deafening buzz would rattle my house & loosen my teeth
how could i hold myself together?

would i need to plant meadows of daffodils & daisies
for you to thrust inside & regurgitate your juices within?

would we bathe in the morning sunlight
as your engines start to drone?

would i need to battle silvereyes & fantails
so you could rest without being plucked & pecked?

where could i take you for dinner on our anniversary
for you would devour anything in hopes of reproducing.

i wonder what you would do if we were to part ways
would you enter my ears, mouth & nostrils?

would i replace your battered coat with my flesh & bone
as you twitch through my veins to move your new limbs?

luckily for me, you have yet to pupate
for you still wriggle & writhe planted in foreign matter
waiting for your chance to amass & knit yourself together.