Split-palmed needle-boned nightmare
child of fever dreams
Short of breath, rich in stars
gaping skyward frantic to swallow
infinite marbles in a fishbowl scape
where the sirens howled lonesome
the world turned heavy as a grindstone
audible against the atmosphere.
the night sky is riddled with
winding sirens rise like prayers
The spinning earth has stopped its coyote growl
it is no longer hungry
No stars to swallow whole with pacific lips -
the frantic fish has lost its gills
replaced with guile and artifice
hi-hat nerves and bass veins.
The fever is gone from her palms
the splinters remain.