afflication sun

i am wine.
i am sapphire
on indigo beaches
perched
on a white rise
opaque from sands, threads,
eclipsing blue and green.

baited cloves dropped in:
my sleeve is bleeding,
and i am perforated.

in a world where i can drink you
there is a holocaust of mind:
without speaking, i know which traumas will die;
i have seen them lined up,
in their waiting.
their mouths are hollow,
and drinking makes them whole.
they soothe,
this is how you die:
cooking fish on the floor,
tossing bones in garbage heaps
that rot like a crown of willow leaves
on a vietnamese girl, washing her hands in hot water
with a bar of pig fat.