I'm chiseled to fit
the spaces between your bones
where you've been stuffing tissue paper
to stop the grinding
of words and arctic shudders.
And your breaths remain
like forest fires on my earlobes,
your voice agitates the barricades
and the cement disintegrates
like ashen feathers
fighting against my ankles.
Utterances from those lock-and-no-key lips
leave me encrusted in the throat-full
of thawed defiance
and I allow you to imbibe
from my fault lines.









