Death between the eyes.
How we could have known
who left with red in their hair.
To give me a terrain—unutterable
when I learn him by taste.
A god sits in the kitchen watching us
keep score on the scorching of ourselves.
We eat with all the hunger.
Curvilinear passages & shuddered core-strings.
Entering the sheets like a body in drought.
I may open myself in the chilled morning.
Become unfiltered into first desire, then nowhere.
Ana Carrizo is a 31-year-old writer living in Texas. Her works are a way of healing and a personal reflection on the process of continual growth. She loves carrying orange peels in her pockets and buying used poetry books. You can read more of her poetry on tumblr @elvedon.
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