Jemima holds a star in her head like the limbs of her girls fanning out in the sun they are swans they are wolves with
canines for days who hold the world in their exhale
deep release with sweet sweaty palms clasped around forearms the earth is sprouting out
the back teeth like the lock clicking at the back door only
there is no passcode to renter no logical fallacies no perfect combination arrangement soliloquy Jemima can do now but fall deeply in the great bodies of water curdling dreams and arise with
hair streaming
molars pulsing
