the purple sky is yawning when i wake up alone:
bared teeth, pearly muscles,
defrayed promises and a set jaw of sunrise.
the thought of you, like an egg yolk on the horizon,
unborn and unblemished and unfertilized.
maybe i am fuller without you! maybe
i am a scramble of color and gloss on my own.
the predawn light pollution, sickly and grey,
spreads itself across my sheets like a cancer.
i am sticky with fever, ill with salt.
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