(1) "ghazal" (2) bustin' out (3) rondelet

(1)

How can I think in the dark when all I can feel
is the white heat of all this swelling?

The eagerness of mosquitos brightens my sheets,
jolts me awake at three a.m., thick with all this swelling.

I spend these nights tearing at my skin with whittled nails,
digging at my heart that throbs in time to all this swelling.

We are making mountains around these knees like doorknobs.
We need to round them out with all this swelling.

Oh, skin of mine, the mosquitoes are arranging bites
into more than constellations, more than all this swelling.

There are fireworks like zinnias, blooming out of hot white centers.
My back is the Fourth of July, alive with all this swelling.
____________________________


(2)


How can I think in the dark
when all I can feel is the white heat
of all this swelling?

The eagerness of mosquitos
brightens my sheets,
jolts me awake at three a.m.

I spend these nights
tearing at my skin
with whittled nails,
digging at my heart that throbs.


We are making mountains
around these knees like doorknobs.

We need to round them out.



Oh, skin of mine,
the mosquitos are arranging bites
into more than constellations,
more than all this swelling.

My back is the Fourth of July.
There are fireworks like zinnias,
blooming out of hot white centers.

________________________________


(3)


I spend these nights
tearing my skin with whittled nails.
I spend these nights
with eager mosquitos, and the
white heat of all this heart-swelling.
Oh, bright skin, bites like zinnias.
I spend these nights.