under the sun there are girls who wear
their hearts on wrists like confetti chains,
red and flaking away like stars;
.
as children they gave us
.
candy bracelets, necklaces, and we
would beautify ourselves in sweetness,
eat those sugar-gems, those jewels
.
until the hard enamel of girlhood cracked
our teeth like tortoiseshell, biting
down on the moon, our wrists
.
grown fat with blood, as pale or dark
as areolas under the harsh white light
of boys’ eyes, blinding as car headlamps;
.
we were does, our unantlered heads
lowered for combat, raw velvet scraped
into bleeding, butting against those sharp tines
those white knives, and we
.
would buckle at the knees, we would
string ourselves out on candy-wires,
our skin embossed
.
with eat me, drink me down, until
one by one,
they devoured
.
our sugar-gem selves; until
our empty, naked heartstrings bled
.
like cavities.