the wooden bridge stretching over black cacti.
Remember calves breaking as fast as you can.
What do you tell your body paraded?
That you’re not satisfied until you’re sick in the dark
eating tamales hair stuck to your back?
That days unwind
around your glass pussy. That microwaving
enraptures the sawhorse?
That Billy the Kid peels the skin off your legs
that this time the cognitive
Winter is bland
and counterintuitive. Numb-full of pink
tongues and routine. Numb-full of all
the gone gory poems trickling cold
in a yard lit by goddamns.
Remember deer shatter
your Peter Pan leaving
the wicker darkness of junkyard cars
licking yourself pretending you’re pregnant
stuck on saliva and stars.