I’m only trying to protect myself—
someone keeps jabbing needles
into my eye.
Spiderweb cracks accentuate the red filaments
and she keeps making these sounds
like the whirr of cicadas.
The whole thing’s kind of tantric:
makes me want to bury the bones
of a sparrow
near the bend in the river,
tattoo f-shaped sound-holes
over my ribcage,
place a line of salt on every windowsill,
across every doorway,
then melt down the silver
in her tongue
and use it to make rain.