How do I get inside you?

The things I have lost, I think you have –

swimming around in your belly,

as dark as asphalt,

touching to create a lung in an embrace, a number

safe

as I would have them.

 

Do you have them?

 

My ribs rise and fall;

crowing iron, shipwrecked,

anorexic -

apparent – a vest of razors

with every breath.

To slip the shades of drowning

in,

spot the dull cell

with blood yet –

 

a thought of oxygen

 

behind your smile –

I sink for that;

 

a burst of things lost –

a sudden show of what I am not –

OPEN UP!

 

I shove and the b

ubbles rise from your lips,

dizzy and sweet -

bolting past my eyes like green whiskers.