"I Twirl Two Frozen Butterflies Twirling Me"

[rikethink]

dear image: I am
spinning;
my head ’s opened up
& bloomed
like fireworks on the Fourth:
all my skinny little prayers have stretched
high over the city, over the
tired
earth;
and I feel
like a thousand lips
trying to kiss a thousand lips.
beauty, at long last, has resurfaced.
I am not surprised,
mind you, merely
slightly swollen, smiling politely, askew.
I wear my love like a rusty coat, mumbling:
Where do I go from you?

dear skin: pack yr bags,
we leave at midnight, when I am damp
& you are
breathing
funny.... prancing naked, shuffling through cold,
wet confetti, I swallow my hands & whisper:

Where do we go
from here?