after Ebecho Muslimova

The branch grows into my vagina
and exits my mouth.
Like sellers of fine carpets, leaves unfold
their new colors at my lips.
The lovers walk the scrawny path
to visit at their assigned hours.
The one who is meanest is the one I most love.
He brings me a fish full of needles.
I am happy to provide
for everyone whatever they need,
as everything outside
swirls thickly and dark.
My holes rotate positions.
A strong stain is created
by the fears of others.
It tints the sky; her lilac iris watches.

I’m stuck here, here
where I have asked you to come.
You are no friend.
My only one is the dog there.
The good blood dripping
from his mouth, fast like a trill,
is a novel full of ideas.
The wind’s iron fingernails
brush back sweetly my hair
from my face. It’s true,
we gave something up
that was not ours to give.
Is my ear the shape of a question?
The scene exchanges my blood
for a sound. Even the worms
grow drunk on it.