-Burning Giraffe Woman-
You fall in like a pyramid
In the morning. Everything does.
The Unnamed Eagle whispers to you
All the secrets of the Yggdrasil.
You smell of pigeonholes.
All of your small-arm packaging layers
Itself into tiny drawers housing your everything.
I open and close the heart box.
Two gods hum.
And the spaces between them are humming.
And then Dali's giraffes are burning like
Stick-tall pyres in the dark.
Everything is perfect.
I climb into your heart box.
It's just light enough to do the math
And everything is adding up:
Love's equation is branded into Loss.
I curl myself fetal, hugging your heart in the dark.
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