Cyclically

This is natural

as good as the gap between keys

my gut feels full of bricks again

like brimming with things not to say

Instead, I dream

of stuffing dead fish with lychee nuts

the entrails snaked along a subway platform

we are two women sloshing fingers--

not to forget our nails--

"The f-train is coming!"

all this in honor of friendship, I will suppose.

Isn't stomach material so different

than the lizard skin

of these fruit; We pinch through

Con sus cascaras rosas y brillante

(too beautiful for mine)

these are more real to me than

you are real, now.

I wish I had squeezed

the fish carcasses to my chest

watching their rubbery eyes bulge.

And in fistfulls

pealed,

grape-ish and translucent

all of it in disguise, and then

I become digusting

over you

anyway.