My girlfriend is better than yours- have you seen her?
Her hands are vast- I inhale her palms and exhale her wrists-
her fingers enclose my bed like a ribcage.
She doesn’t need pads or tampons; her menses fill my home,
at an angle, like a flowing sheet in front of the window. Erupting up from the
floor, down from the ceiling- where her ankles meet by the fan. And when the
light peers through the window the room fills with rose. I can use her pink
hair as a blanket, and her vulva as a pillow. Her teeth are square pearls
erupting from the wall; my fan hangs from one earlobe, and a light bulb from
the other.
And wonderful eyes: one green and one blue. One small enough
to carry with me, the other explodes across my field of vision every morning,
and watches me under my covers; now reflecting a soft lavender light.
Each breast towers between rooms, her white skin papers my
walls- insulated with sweet delicate marrow. Her heart beats through the tiles
in my shower; her urethra snakes through the pipes and flows constantly, her
throat gurgles always beneath the toilet seat.
And she never talks, her tongue is a light mist, I can walk
through it and feel her words, cold and wet, sticky against my chest-