spell

each night i curl naked in the bee swarm
tapping hand at my hip
as a memory aid
to call it spelling is to test
any remnant magic in the language
(i keep naming this butterfly the whole half mile to its wheel
litter the wing with blood and letters)

somewhere wet and new
i and you make words
cocooned in the parenthesis of moving thigh
i melt our archive to genetic liquid and build again
(i’ve read this is the process for birthing a butterfly)
animal broken into flight
in the muscled walls of imagination
what we might say instead

   (  my body is thick with names i’ve yet to give this

i memorize the passage and
hand it back to you with my mouth
working suffixes to a froth
in the fearful shadow of loss’s bell
to give a reading is to level
flatten a steady line against the mattress
straight as a stilled heart
letting the air press me in your absence
this pitiful command at nothing:
want and use, me and words

    (     (     there is no one here           including me

letter leaning against letter
my mouth a shivered hollow
spells out your name
                                        spills its crumbling pupae