seven years

definitions of me
sawdust piles lie coy in mystery
scrape me together and grab some glue
not for me but for you
because i just fall through hands
like serrated grains of pine barren sands
so build your finest prop
and jack up your jaw dropped

don’t fall apart on me now
i’ve got a dove in my mouth
and caterpillar fingers inching your way
explosions for eyes and a fistful of compromise
i ejaculate the sunrise for you
while cut arms disarm the harm
(sure i know trite, but do you?)
sure i know me, but could you?

and if the mirror falls to your feet
abstracted into splintered sheets
can you ever remember
just who you were talking to?