I hung my eyelids until they rusted
on iron hooks, I can hear God
lick the blood, He glued angels to my soles
and set me on my way.

You read my corneas
three hundred and twenty seven times, I can feel you
peel back decay and hold a glowstick to my skull
when I really need headlights and five vowls
to split tree trunks in half.

We walk miles between telephone cables,
hold you lip lines upto my pores, tell my tendons something
new, tell it with your pulse-sighs, with your wrist bones

with your knee caps that can open doors. I'll cough it up hard
for you, then swim inside your ear canal to remind you
your mother loves you,
she knows the edges of your body are beautiful,
atoms fall away and I can see you
hand me an atomony book
and say I have a lot to learn.

I can feel the defect in my stomach,
the cancer in my airways
but I open my arteries forgiveness-wide,
some days I am older than you
but that's okay

because most days I am not
and I fit inside match boxes again.
Let's pretend we live inside barcodes
and own numbers instead of names,
just for a while. Then we can go back
to scrape the marrow from our bones
until we reach the 'us' we like.

We must have been busy pulling our pistol skins apart
when God told us to love ourselves
before he mailed us to this place
where people box up heart beats
like stamps.