and after stealing your way in on a breath
sliding down rivers of mucus to creep along walls
until you had found the outer bars of my ribs
and a leg to stand on, after
you set fire to everything there,
shoved out through my lips every corner and coverup
to burn in the tundra of verisimilitude
out here in reality–
you want more. i have little left.
i do not know who whispered into your ear
these promises of abundance buried in my bowels
but he lied.