My tiny terrorist,

Wreaking havoc upon the neat assortment of squish

That occupies the empty space of my bed.

With a wild look in your eye,

The fires of destruction glow brighter

Than the candle I hold to my lover’s name.

He now reeks of inconvenience;

The prey in the palm of his predator.

I wore my wounds under long sleeves,

Tenderized the meat on my bones with salt—

When I was delirious,

Blamed the cat scratch fever.

I saw my own ghost dancing in the snow.

My pelt hung on your wall over the mantle

And my love became black smoke clogging up your chimney.

You retracted your talons, carving into my heart, the false idol, the bees full of motion—

Meeting the same ending as the Saint,

Head rolling down the sidewalk

And my body roaming the cobblestone streets,

Looking for a place to rest my feet.

The city lights gleam,

And you think you are my god.

I may have worshiped you in the sands of your scorching desert,

But, here, you are afraid of your shadow—

And making enemies of the houseflies.