Meg Cameron

terracotta

moreover,
          my tragedy wanes
          like fingernail moons on the horizon
                    —it’s still morning and the sunset
                                                                is saturated with milk

this seeps in large quantities, perpetually:
                              it affects me like braille

whatever must have happened
                    cannot be found in these filaments
          (what else is there to care for
          besides teeth and fingernails?)

language has a flavor;
          imagine tasting speech

          how coarse like nettles
          how brittle
                              like fallen leaves
          how soft like baby fleece,
                                        or rabbit fur…

an elongated caress
between the means of i and me;
          molds link us longer than hiplines dare to tell

my bodies unite…!
          i bite my lip;
                              this is committed for us
                              & all the good we stand for
                    but much more likely all the bad
          that argues our hearts daily

i ruin everything sacred,
                              ending my best life just because i can

but it reminds
          “i love”
                    repeats, “i love”
, bouncing off my mirror shell

by Meg Cameron

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