Lizzy Burnam 🐞

he : his lemon fist & acorn knees
who circles like a vulture at the door of heaven

she : her vanity & mountain bones
sometimes cloaked in opals, sometimes rose & 

they : hearts like pincushions, cruel 
& pretty as a ruby-red sundown

weasel-guards ; gem-seekers ; war-slick

words that spread like lichen
'cross the cold stone of an unholdable hand

& when, (the audience asks)
as night knocks, is that fallen fruit 
not benevolent? 

they : creepy-crawly like pharaoh ants
reopening each other's wounds

she : counts her sins 
pinky finger to pinky finger, a wingspan 
that <> wide

he : still spitting venom green 
into an ecosystem lost to his own drool
swears on god he knows it—even believes it— 

but if heaven is earnest, then
gutter boy, the ax is already on its way