Penitentials
If I say too much: Stain my throat with hunger for everythingI cannot swallow. Let me gnawmy tongue into bloom—my moutha garden of busted cherries, salt-soaked skin split to the stonesIf my teeth fall in sick-lovewith the sweetness of biting first: Crack both hands into bladed bone—knuckles stripped, serrated. Settle mein gutted corners, nursing fistfuls …