Valerie Salerno
December 23, 2024
fog hangs, a birthday balloon.
saliva coats the inside,
a slimy latex pocket.
your words breathe through me,
snapping thought
into white-hot fragments.
scatter and crash,
blur the new moon’s
liquid face.
your hair is the color of dried blood,
or a burnt branch—
your skull opens.
ideas stream out,
black minnows, searching
my body for rest.