running mental laps      recycling vowels to cry out when i inevitably am shoved to the hot
ground of my        imagination because this        does not happen

                         it won’t happen if i wear white veils instead of         red and avoid speaking wolves and lay       low in tide pools full of my own rebreathed breath

                                  the air exhausted of its womanness with each safe suffocated exhale

                                                                                anemones and polyps popping etiquette
threats at my eyes periwinkle with         embarrassment

                                                                                                           that i could think such a thing
could happen         to an anthropomorphic deform

                                                               a clay vase abandoned        before its waist was smoothed
with slip

if asked where is my         fear i’d say         oh yes        here         see it         is        water shaped