Poem
the night is closing
over your shoulder the moon
three days away from full
a veil lifting
with only a thin layer of August left
on the Field
the way you talk
about fucking
like an olympic free diver pruning
oysters
is a tell you would go deep fast
and very soon
heart stripped
naked on a plate
five stars above your head
a floral shorted empress
on a bed of grass drinking
green wine
from here we unwrap
nori soy kimchi tacos
open up wider