the girl is the lover

This is the Lover.

     

     The girl

     swallows the death of her--

     injesting years

     at bay

     with mindless vultures

     picking and tearing forgiving flesh

     familiar blood in this child's arms.

    The girls stares

    wild and fragile

    blazing unadultered eyes.

    She speaks silence well,

    a language between walls

    turning in the bed sheets

    and simmering on the stove,

    she breathes this silence

    heavy, carefully

    down your arm.

    She is sick

    mad for this voice---

    forging,

    mere sounds

    her deafening rapture.

The girl is the Lover.