You whispered down my throat, now we share food to the kiss, our marriage yields a communal pulse and breath closed to a hiss.
My joints are too fertile, a pasture of skin, ants march across eyebrows while roots pierce walls within my smear-stained asylum, my briar-torn veins become ley lines that ooze worms; my full belly strains.
Ivy leaves climbing my raw, yeast-slick thighs, to a dewdrop of sweat my sweet blossom replies. You're choking on sap but I'm strangled with shoots - my raked limbs bear only the most rotten of fruit, my soil swims in cancer, roots pump me with rot, unfold in my womb to untie all my knots and break open my shell to free my tapeworm noose, let in all the carrion who still have a use for the filth that you raped, sewed your seed before flies did; as nature saw, you're caked in mud - but I'm gilded.
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