grain

June 15 2024

You want a fervid love;
blistering. Burnt my tongue
on soup you prepare for
God Knows Who.

The silo is empty and
im stuffing it with rye,
malt, jaan. From that
tote bag and whatever
I can get my hands on.

Longing coiled around my skin is vitiation.

Desire is a friend that
begs for estrangement.

So I keep the vacuum running.