A parse of me  --  take a few
           ( s     paces. )    Stroke. What it means to create broad fires;

they can crash. Lift a lot between cut             \
             inside your palms
                          circle touches,

                                                         stroking through egg-white noise

touching glimpses of my above waters; lap, licking  -
            as yolks slope downward. They can. Perhaps, inside your


Little blue tiles can't be differentiated between water
                or my  --

I spend whole times down under
                                          waters with my eyes closed
                        not for any reason other than

                     my childhood was spent in          ( s     pools. )
Or my parent's bathroom. 

              Imagining beaded, 
                                         soggy dog with wet grass stuck to under belly
        mouth open

                               as I palm myself by pressing palm to palm.


                        I am cumbersome to illuminate, but if you

                             my scalp repeatedly

in calm gestures,               you will        

let sprawl out of your fingers the ongoing rises of --
that warm you up
    to all the things that pierce into your hands
    like me.     I hope you let me swell there         .

-- the thrill of surfacing belly up, mouth open, brush
my face against the angle
of the headboard 

or the side of the fridge. Here


, parched, I think, 
I pinched at kitchen walls.


        My teeth feel short. I lick back a little longer.