“leukemia,” “die doktor,” “process & finale”

leukemia

blood ate from his body
wrapped in radiation.

his tongue embrace the nectar
that his mouth spills out. 
a hummingbird hovers
above his lips—still nothing new.

still the body caves
onto itself. still there are
little whispers to find the sick
dying, & sick are dying.

worms detect his eyes;
sparrows discover the worms.

he discerns things
landing on his cheekbones.

a mother incubates her eggs inside his brain
& they are to hatch
as he is to die.

die doktor

doktor
you fall in love with my symptoms
dance with me like a scalpel
across the floor we make incisions to open the boards
worms & weeds & rot scour beneath
where inlies my heart, a wet dark sack.

doktor
my iron lungs transfer the chemical
to shrink my already shrunken brain:
you extract my sickness, a cesarean,
out my nasal cavity, to study the devil,
to secure in your hand a power.

doktor
you leave my body to cure
or to cure.

process & finale

i masturbate today
as you reach outside me
& we break & i scream
& you taste me as rigorous—
i wash your mouth—

i grew a child
in a foreign coffin—beating,
skin marked the stretching
as trenches: a war of flesh
lashed out against the body.

i hold you & we coil together.
our exterior molts & the soft
under tissue fuses & hardens again.