the fruit is hard where the stone sits. the shoulder weighs heavy where your head is anchored: skull, meat, pulp.
you make me want to stick a finger down your ear canal, twist my hand inside, tilt your head back and drink the juice that spills out of your eyes.
this is to say: i love you. terribly. i love you like an axe loves the tree trunk, like a deer loves the poaching.
you don’t have to destroy me you don’t have to destroy me you don’t have to destroy me
i’m not sure which one of us says it
my mouth hums through yours
it shouldn’t, though—everything should be still
                                    a silent silent newborn hush


for a moment, we think we’ve reached equilibrium

but then the ears—those babylonian baby ears
                                    red and supple in the morning frost (you don’t have to destroy me)
i think i want to destroy you
i think i will destroy you
quietly /
                        softly /
tenderly