I came without you last night;
two fingers curled like parentheses between my thighs where I left you.
& autumn became just as fleeting. I
remember red as if it were currency;
borrowed from womanhood and the kiss that claimed us one.

I remember how you fed me oranges
& I tongued the seeds while my fingers played in your hair. I
crawled inside your analogy and made love to you as if I were an eggshell;
small and brittle, unable to stand the concrete weight of your hands.

I raise the hem of my skirt;
my womb has gone back to war beneath ripe cotton. I
try to draw a line between us
& peel back the blisters of what you left inside of me;
the colour of a thousand tight throated blossoms when it bleeds.

I bought oranges today
& picked dandelions to place on my breasts where…