Time, in present tense, 
ebbs in a parallel future and past. 
(Minutes like seconds, 
hours like days) 
Let the dust pile in the 
empty glass. 
It’s alright, 
I promise I'll clean it 
tomorrow. 

Like a prayer from the same 
lips that my teeth gnaw at. 
I say amen while 
my tongue runs smooth lines 
on ripped skin. 

The heat crept in 
during June. I let it. 
Thin sheets, 
fleece blanket 
piled on my body 
—an uninterrupted corpse. 

Cicadas buckle their muscles 
and recite their song for my 
undead funeral. 
They hum for love
beyond themselves. 
I say amen.