You brush me above the king bed,
ceiling paint tainted with hair.
I cover your sex with new lovers,
replace cabinet knobs with ball joints.
Grip me, open locked doors,

every day. Boil down my jaw, rachet
teeth to nub, carry my bones
to the swimming hole, nail me
to a white birch, a robe hook for men
who can choose to be naked.

Whisper the length of my spine,
invite clack to windchime days
that I failed you. Place discordant music
in throats of migratory birds,
the Canada goose, hummingbird,

goldfinch and loon. Make me—a torrent
of stars, God’s ejaculate, a billowing
absence of time. Make me—constellate,
unnamable, move in my missing. I’ll listen,
your rattle, and we’ll come together again.