Snip snip

 

I want to snip my skin into ribbons.

I want to feed on bones

I want the air to become me

My house should be wider than the desert.

Dreams and shifting sands of sleep

Weigh heavy on my eyes and weeping shoulder wounds.

Sand, and flesh and bones and skin

Ribs for toothpicks,

Dreams for babies 

And children

And crones.

I want to snip the air into the thousand crumbling salts it falls in

I want their ribbons in my hair

Bone ribbons

Salt ribbons

Flesh ribbons winding through us all

I want dreams that aren’t sticky

I want to breathe unsalty air

I want a home that I fit in.

I want.  I always want.