My older sister Nancy and I walk down the street together. In our hands are plastic grocery bags that smell like shame and old onions. We are going trick-or-treating. I know we're getting too old fo ... [+]
I would live in perpetual darkness Knowing you by touch alone— A relief of scales, a battle-scarred carapace Wrapped around your fiery bones.The mist would cling to us Like a skin after I sloughed mine off.In relentless fog, I would teach myself rebirthAway from curious eyes.You would know me by touch alone— Raw skin, sticky ectoplasm As I learned to reconstruct myself In the cradleland of blind prophets,Penumbral dreamtides,And abyssal monstersOf which I would love you most.