Propelled Bones

I’m contemplating the height of your window

and the thickness of the skin on the inside wall of

your thumb.

I cannot quite place the growth of your smile

as it expands over rocky valleys and causes

fossils to be reborn.

I am swimming in a pool of jelly and sand that’s

burning my eyes yet I am known to only that.

In lack of consideration you have begun to swallow birds

whole and I can see the blood from your throat as the beaks

scrape down

the wallpaper of your esophagus.

While tender feet compress thunder and cracks in the road

I am forced to suppress a pipe of condensation inside my upper lip

and wait until the rivers have eaten themselves dry.

I am walking with a pair of binoculars around my neck

and yet the only depth I am able to see is in the center of your cupped hands

holding a glass crab,

fresh from the mindless sea.