In Her Room on a Light-Kissed Afternoon

Not only the nip and tuck of her skin quilting

milk bent bones; not only the somersaulting

head spin of her light skin spread atilt

the deep of her lemon-puffed pillow and quilt

lifting into the citron-charged air; but even the lilt

of strings from the speaker on her well-built

mockernut cabinet, the light from her half-

opened window and the high heckled laugh

of girls promenading past her bedroom,

scrickety-screeching over each other’s lampoon

of a pizza-faced boy they tortured all afternoon;

even the snow-capped peaks of her importune

shoulder-bones, the squidged soles of her feet,

the daylight’s tufts in the meadowsweet

sky charged with godwits, lemon-puffed billows

and Boeings: all these things sink below

her arse-through-mouth fear of the aeroplane’s kaboom,

its flaring nose dive-bombing her bedroom;

her fear of turning cloud, her skin become cotton,

a lemon-puffed pastry shred to pieces in the rotten

sky and windblown, turned to tears

cut like arrowheads, salt-fired and clear,

pitter-patter-clattering her window

as I plunge her lip-stained pillow

and quilt, her light citrus skin

with hate mail, emissions, election results breaking in

as we lie there, beating, dead to our bones

in her lemon-puffed bower of words, and sticks, and stones.