all

seventeen

Tuck me in and let
me know the intimacy
outside us, that it does
not have to hush
Hold me, close-knit,
and let the war collide
with ours inside
Glide past what's ever
left of the bone marrow
and offer all in the glade
Sink the teeth on this
thing we call spite and
do not do so out of it

I will turn off the lamp,
we do not have to see