It All Went to Hell When He Donated His Body to Research

July:

He has the sort of musculature that mad scientists experiment on.
It’s the Indian in him that surrenders, calm resignation to warfare.
The body is smooth & erotic, & I have buried my fingers in that hollow between bicep & pectoral. He is delicate with my hips. He chews lavender candy so that my mouth flowers

August:

I make his shark eyes turn swimming pool blue.
I am an impermanent marker,
I am a white searing scar.
I feel every needle they puncture him with,
in that arm which I have claimed.
When they draw his blood, my hemoglobin goes down.

September:

I’m so anemic now
& warn him of vampires & crazy glue
but he dreams poetry
into skeletons of the past
& my words disintegrate
ink mixed with soap.