America whispered to me, Let me get closer to your sadness.
I unbuttoned my shirt and pressed America’s hands to my lace
cups. America struggled briefly with the hook & eye.
I looked upon the thinning hair of America. My nipples shrank
to pink stones inside the open mouth of America.
I don’t know why you’re rushing, I told America. This is the prettiest
part of the drive. America hands me a fish to hold, but I am already
the fish that swims inside itself. I am the perfect hook
to catch a merica. I step into my own sad mouth,
where the foremilk badlands & hindcream kiss feed.