Traffic - I write for her

she struggles from the hardwood like a creamy stallion
drowning in a raging surf. her limbs

the appendages of a white crab spider sprawl bent,
slender supple bones. her eyes

caked on, fingernails caked on like dried blood, caked
onto her fleshy thighs. her eyes

are wooden chambers locked stone hollow, key swallowed,
dwindling human. Although

her fingertips are faultless pearls, beet hair stiffened curls,
vision whirls, she's still a girl. the atmosphere

folds in like an origami crane collapsing slowly, sharp
corners slicing mostly. Pelvis bony, snowy

shivers, scintillating silver rivers (stream) dampen her tinder.

a dream: lily petals dissolve into the hardwood like cream