I bundle my panic as orchids to pass across the booth.

Phalaenopsis. she bounces a fertile goddess across

your lips but what it really means is {moth}. what it

means is longer nights blooming. you have told me

this before but I catch folktales from your mouth.

I am not hungry enough to be here.

sex before the meds was electricity. muscles returning

their ache to the earth. it made us need eggs. today I

am watching the pressure carve your kingdom from

my fields. there is not enough lemon in your

hollandaise. yet you mold me an orchard of citrus.