For the Dancer

cut in half in a ceramic bowl, the edge of the spoon carves out the meat from the middle, sawing at the membrane that encases the pulp.

the contents of the atlantic 

are tucked behind my ear. 

the other isles have oozed into my hair

parasitcally working their way down my throat

Disregard the misconceptions of hostility in the act of lying. It is just a mechanism brought to us first by Darwin. A bird nips at the soil, her beak raw from the tragic repetition of giving and giving.