taphonomy / spell break

you know best—i waver, unquivered in my sleep-

sack, i bring you to the abandonment i created,

the sweet dirt in my palms & hair, all of me

serrated in graves. i knew a man to call a father,

briefly, & then another. speakofthedevil comes up

from the skull-wings, kisses me again & again

in my makeshift bed shared with children

by the dozen. i doze here in the boneyard,

make soup-broth out of dead-breath. an extraordinary

baker, i can savor flavors of the after, the carvings

done in sand, all our names destined to be cemented,

to be storied, & then to be resurrected in error.

if you didn’t know already, i’m casting a spell

on you, dearly beloved. speakofthedevil is coming—

it’s supper, or else, it’s nuptial. i welcome birth,

but unlike death, i can’t perform it on my own.