Winter Teeth

blinking is bark, soil, earth's excrement.
mouthing my knuckles fills the lungs.
rain turns it's windmill through the clouds:
clouds broken and jagged, black hives.
my nipples, buds, trapped neatly to root.
my toes find the ends of the Earth, dangle.
the soft stuck mouth of my sex closes
so that nothing new can grow, be born there.
my trunk twists and trundles in it's sleep.
rain climbs the stairs backward, i am
bone cold, blue lipped, tight fisted:
for something grows where i do not desire.
something births with the miserable freeze
where the rest of life has gone still:
i am not what you want me to be.
i refuse to grow this thing.

the birds leave worms across my face.
this is their final offering.

night: where the trees are men in hoods.
houses miles away. the thrum of wet wings,
to east. the wind the hiss of snake. my mind
devoured. fertilized with your easy sperm:
take this and this and this. now again.
i blush nicely with axe in mouth.
the soil fills my sex, my skin tells me i am mad.
there is no reason for this wildness in such comforts.
only that my spirit is a naked thing in the mud.
i move without you in this Winter ecstasy

i am my own, she hers, you take your offering.
what you fuck or feel: i refuse to grow that thing.