Thunderbride

My throat is full of sparklers

                                                    making me a lighthouse

                                 for a loveship       that can fly

Our mother monarchy

                                 sweet land paternity

I’ll eat their offspring’s money       and let you have a bite

In wilder colors       I can love the copy of  you

                                 which is great            when we have breasts

He will breathe through contractions

           and she will heal the faceless

                                 and use her eyes       to steel his legs

You must see that I’m eating for two sexes

Minimalism means       nothing making more

                                               of  what isn’t there

           a green preconception

             divining a baby gender

                                   for which I qualified

           with braids ablaze       and stuck to my back

We are going to win       then make extra babies

           yes we make enough

               to make a country

Text unto the winged baby       the tiny pill of  mystery

                               that makes me want to tickle the world

           until it starts barfing clouds

Make it free       is not the advice we paid for

           but a long song about the flavor of nowhere

                                                   and how we never fill it

           and how I shave my buzzardy wings       to offend the sublime

While I’m quick to swallow       the heaviest business

                      and quicker yet to modify that trash

       you have a poultice       for sudden holes

                      you have a knife in ten minutes

           you will marry a parent       and make it do

                                   whatever you tell it

The raptor you were       does an end-run around sorrow

                      but I’m right here sweetness

                      out of  the glass closet                voilà

               voilà        so what do you make of my baby

Tonight we bomb

Tonight we blitz

Tonight we barrage

Tonight we make the greater migration

Tonight our fabulous flock shits napalm on the criminal dads

For I am a figure       first of girls in orbit

               the best reason I have to eat your bed

I am spangled breasts       I am shaved

                       like any birdboy       only huger

                than babies or ladybugs

                       one of each is precious

                       a million a menace

My inside is a live mine

         and I’m after the light that sustains the skin of  women

                     scooping the spectacle

         where everyone freaks everyone

They will say how do you do Mister Ms. Thunderbride

                 and I will say I do it distorted

                             and you       will marry a million of  you

                                                              in your twisted gown of  flames