I grow a back for bearing, a mouth
I want the garden green and gold
and red, to tongue
its nothing seeds, its shit.
I want the body ambitious to break
ground for my ambitious want.
I walk the body straight to hunger,
then I open hunger’s mouth.
I put the world on my body’s tongue
and soon the world
flattens before me,
prone. I hold the world
tight between my hands,
and the world, smiling,
curls my palms