my phantom limb
has a mouth
where the knee
bends
teeth like razors
that bite in night
when the earth
falls still. sugar
in the grill
that burns hot
on the calf.
i started feeding
her oysters. trade
for the fleshy meat
of my thigh
sometimes she eats sand
a dog that bites
the hand
as I offer grapes
and day old bread
and moths that fold
around the lamp
at my bedside
At 4 and 5 and 6am
her stomach growls
I flip the switch
she’s getting hungrier
all the time
her smile puckering
as I slide lemons
between the sheets
haul a tire I found
in the road
something to tire the jaw
she crushed light bulbs
in her fangs one night
nervous as she looked toward the dog
“No you can’t have her,” I said
a snarl
i brought her a raw steak
from the fridge
But her appetite
it grows and grows.
the next night I bring her a whale
that’s been beached
i wake inside its skeleton
and she’s happy and fat
and sleeping
but tomorrow
her hunger returns
and I feed her a house
and the books that live inside
i drag great humps
of lawn
to her feeding place
buckets of sea water
to wash down her thirst
i bake her a birthday cake
lick the frosting
she eats the candles
without making a wish
i tore down the ceiling fan
and she crushed it in one bite
i fear I’ve made her stronger
with all the fuel
feedings becoming more frequent
battery acid oozing down
her knee-like chin
her latest meal:
the television remote
i didn’t need to watch it anyway
i fed her a bar of soap
scrub your mouth
dirty girl,
i thought
she laughed and burped bubbles
i’ve never heard her speak
I fed her the tiles
from the bathroom shower
and hangers thrown one by one
i fed her a blade
i fed her the sun
i fed her a rope
and a roll of film
a stack of letters
followed by the mailbox
a flashlight
a box of pins
i fed her a scream
i fed her a laugh
and a piece of my arm
take that
and this
and this
and that
and this
and this
and this
i fed her my fist
and the left side of my chest
and my heart thumped
in her throat
finally I crawled inside
her jaw
take my wrist
my neck
my waist
my hip
take my sleep
and my sorrow
and my hair
and my chin
take my me
so that I may rest.
she clamped down
and I became air.
a little hiss
as I became atmosphere
Find me in your astronaut suit
and in the balloons
at the party
find me in your soup
and in your lungs
and your loaded gun.
find me in the suitcase
hovering over the dish soap
I’m living here
and there
and there
and here
and there
and here
and here
and here.