I am sewn into the dress crinoline is rough and scratch.
I have a pretty room with a pretty rocking horse and hairbrush and ribbons hoopskirt the wedding silver and grime.
girl, hands folded girl with aching
daylight burnt in the attic.
I want so badly to give you body hot-blooded, tender running fevers
running across the barley fields until femur bone pokes through to be sick for you
shivering like candlewicks every tip and fiber lighted.