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.