This delicate female
has cracked her shell;
her yolk is not yellow,
but red, red like the color
of your breath on fire.

Branches bent and twisted
like the words I want to suck from the air
and from your ears.
This situation
I would erase, but the memory
is burned in my brain cuticles;

Like a station wagon
built for twelve teens to sit comfortably,
my array of emotions fills the empty seats.

Yes, this delicate female
will fuck you over
and her own square head
would be pounded round.