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This Kitayama Cedar killed and cut and planed
pops bubbles: air in soap, blood in flesh (insects deeper than toes
so leave it on the ground
or lean it just enough against my door
to stand . . .
Spray paint windows breaking off
in tree rot mushroom plates smell of each stratum's
lead names
and past half
brick frames
fire escapes rust away
from Escher's dreams plus
potted plants wrapping to dragons
or dried to death
or both: flameless skeletons of
Don't turn that glass towards my lips;
Shatter me in teacups with ballerina roses
forgotten in night-vision wisteria
cameraphile green &
explosive soundtracks;
Write me my skin in lye or your own
urine
when you've had too much coffee-- for you
my daily
I love you and sharing blood
that grows inside its like its crystal case
with your blood
would be too much
I hope you understand.
Elizabeth Switaj says, "My work has appeared in several small press journals, and I hold an MFA in poetics and creative writing from New College of California. Currently, I live and teach English in Japan's Tochigi Prefecture."